The Writers' Circle

There's a paracite in my mind,
Taking over my every thought,
Leaving it's destructive trail
With lines around my brain
I have to fight this intruder
With my willingness to survive
I'll beat it out of me one way or another
Too late! It's already taxed my brain-
The government always wins
And the tax man gets his cut
His ounce of my life
For a mega-multitude of grief
Just for his pockets
full of greed!