To The Spectre Of Creativity

Here comes the apparition of creative energy, emanating from the deep dark recesses of an embittered mind, a despondent soul, treading stealthily, paving its way through the tip of the fountain pen into the paper.

O apparition of creative energy, thou shalt be eternally abhorred, for no amount of appreciation is worth pacifying the pain that I am enduring now.

O apparition of creative energy, why dost thou relish feeding on the angst and agonies of those that harbour you. It gives them nothing but pangs of affliction. To a heart suffering from abject melancholy, you are nothing but a mute spectator inflicting excruciating pain incapable of offering consolation or much-needed solace. Of what use are you to your host when you don't lend them your hand in lessening their anguish. You rather use their anguish as fodder and nothing but anguish fuels you. No amount of melancholia can satiate your avarice, the kind of greed that is not materialistic per se but one which distorts the mind of the subject to such an extent that it renders him incapable to return back to sanity.

O apparition of creative energy! You are nothing short of a friend who ushers in a tempest of tumultuous emotions in your host and distorts their sane state of existence. You are the spectre that has tormented Dickens, Shelly, Austen, and numerous others, the proof of which lies in the manuscripts decked in libraries, the Albatross which hangs around your very neck, and rightfully so becomes a testament of your folly.

O apparition of creative energy! Why art thou so merciless. I understand that you are the remnant of bitter feelings and hence bitter yourself but why do you let yourself flow so unrestrained. Can you not be a bit more reserved? It does nothing more than expose the bleak, desolate state of an already embittered mind. How can you be so unabashedly unapologetic about your deeds! Don't you realize how grotesque you are?

O apparition of creative energy it is your presence that I dread the most. I would rather have peace and solace as companions, than regale in the murky diffused light of appreciation that the world bestows on one who is inflicted by your pestering. It appalls me to think of the fact that the more a person is tormented by you, the more is his worth as a composer.

O apparition of creative energy can you not refrain from inflicting pain and sufferings to those with whom you share your source of agony? Maybe you can't. So even though I despise you, I guess I would have you as a constant companion in times of dejection and dismay.