burden of creativity

[craven]

and the thrill declines
as she fulfills the last lines
and the poem culminates in the highlight

alive with pride (when she notices)
how her words collide
and how good she creates the impression of twilight

she lays down her pen
and draws back to her den
and she feels home by the crepuscular fireside

but the nagging doubt inrages
will a person ever read her pages?
will her congenial art ever rise?

her good sense she disdains
and feeds her work to the flames
and like usual she goes to sleep in despise.