Work At What I Do

I work at what I do.
Sometimes done numbed produced.
I said I work at what I do.
Done did to prove,
It isn't easy.
Not at all.
Doing done what it is I do,
Without sleep or rest...
Until dawn upon the horizon calls.

Committed.
As if I am adďicted?
Yes.
I confess.
I work at what I do,
To please the approval of my mistress.
Who awaits to judge,
If what I do she accepts.

I work at what I do.
Done did to do.
To satisfy my mistress.
Until she approves.

Day and night.
Night and day.
My mistress awaits,
From me to have something worthy to say.
And without fail I will deliver.
No matter what it takes.
Knowing from her no break can I take.
Since my mistress believes,
What I do for her...
She owns alone,
And condones my every move.
From the moment she knew,
My devotion to writing.
Would test my endurance.
And my patience and tolerance,
With her always reminding me...
My best to think it is just mediocrity.

'Why can't you leave me alone?'

'That I tried to do.
But it's not me.
It's you.
Claiming me to love,
In sickness and in health.
With a staying devoted.
To me like nothing else.
Until death do us part!'

'Oh?
And when had that been legalized?'

'You...
Refused to call me your muse.
And I warned you many years ago,
If I am to be your mistress?
You are going to pay the price for it.
I am not that easy,
To believe you can get up and leave,
A commitment to me you made.
Are we on the same page?'

'Thank God I am a poet.
And not a writer of novels!'

'Excuse me!
What did you say?!'