It consumes me
The tedious typing
And the sound of Tappity-Tap Tap.
It holds me
The words like webs
And the elegance of the rhythm.
It devours me,
The envious work of another,
How their brain can interpret and emit such beauty.
It will kill me one day,
And live within my final breathe,
But to no avail will it escape my lips, it being the perfect poem.
