Word-Goblin at Midnight: The Writer’s Delight

At night, while the world drifts off in deep,

You wrestle your troubles—the secrets you keep.

Words are your weapons, your solace, your pain,

Lines building up in a lyrical chain.

Poems pour out like ink from a quill,

Truthful and clear, your joy and your thrill,

Tunes rising within, like dawn breaking new,

Sounds ready to lift and awaken with you.

But daybreak arrives with papers and rules—

Laws on a path, their precision quite cruel.

Still, you sneak in a style, an image concealed,

A beat that moves where boredom is sealed.

Call it what you wish—you’ll pen it anew:

A contract, a story, a love song or two,

Ideas overflowing, you drink like it’s wine,

Making magic from mundane, with every line.

Don’t chase the applause, the shares, the praise—

For ‘likes’ are just echoes, not what you raise.

The magic ignites when your phrasing feels true,

When pages reveal the real heart within you.

So write for the smile that glows from your screen,

For the hush when a verse makes your heartbeat serene.

For the 3 a.m. chuckle that nobody’s seen,

When words finally fit, like a dream in between.

Let fame be a whisper, a breeze passing by—

You are the wild spark, the fire in your eye.

The plant in the corner, bathed in soft light,

‘Go on, word-goblin—be wild and just write.’

Let ink fill the page as if drawn from your veins—

The world takes what’s left, but your heart still remains.

No regret, only freedom—your spirit takes flight,

The words are for you—so keep writing each night.