He gets in and locks the door
even before turning the light on
he doesn't want anyone to know
that he is needing his next fix
Sitting at the desk and rolling up his sleeves
he selects his favourite instrument
barely pausing to take a breath
he slowly brings it down point first
He moans in ecstasy as it takes hold
enjoying the moment of pure bliss
before long it will gradually subside
and he will be back as he was
He has successfully kept his addiction secret
from all including many of his friends
it's not something he can give up
he only has incentive to continue
He slumps over the desk completely drained
the pages in front of him covered with lines
the written word is his drug
and poetry his legal high
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem