Poetry

Poetry is my crutch,
Perhaps, on it
I rely far too much.

I'd be totally lost,
Without my words.
I'd have to pay a cost.

When I feel down and out
And my head reels,
For pen and pad I scout.

I scribble my thoughts fast
On blank paper,
In case they do not last.

Sometimes a verse is born,
Sometimes not, then
My muse looks on with scorn.

But, poetry my crutch
Shall so remain,
I need it far too much.