Once upon a muse
I was in a sort of trance, 
and made a poem like juice,
they patted me, praised me. 
Treasured me. Deified me...
and I became my own god.
I did not recover. 

Now I have a throne
cherubim wings flying at my command 'go!'
Unimpressed they scolded me. Pinched me. 
Lectured me on heresy.
Beat down my spirit...
but they made me stronger
and entertained my lust for power. 

I'm made a rest for the dejected
a calm for souls turbulent.
An echo for groaning voiceless.
They made me this sweet monster -
I may not recover
from being a wordy messiah.

- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

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