A demon ate my muse,
Swallowed her up whole,
And left me to pick up the pieces.
Shards of untold stories;
Crumbs of opening verses;
A word here and there — incohesive at best;
Pictures without colours;
Shapes without form.
But the demon is full and happy, it seems.
Building a home inside of me,
Right where my muse used to be.
© Shyla Fairfax-Owen
Words & Stitches 
Sometimes the Muse Demon comes for me too.
When it does, I rebuild from the pieces left behind
Better stories than I had first imagined.
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It can suck the life out of you if you let it… or it can morph into something incredible.
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There is nothing wrong with a hungry demon. Sometimes their appetite is worth it.
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There might be something to that.
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i loved this so much!! kudos
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Thank you! That means a lot to me
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