Suffering for Her Art

The suffering artist sits alone in her quarters.
Rocking back and forth with her head in her hands.
Demons new and old dancing around her.

Taunting leers and glowing eyes shine at her.
Mocking her pain and laughing at her misery.
Glistening claws rip at her pale skin.

A blank notebook sits across the room.
A pen rests next to the blank book.
A music player completes the set.

The lonesome writer could be free.
She could be cured of her insanity.
All she has to do, is put the pen to paper.