A story's a seed to be sown;
It haunts you, won't leave you alone.
It will gnaw at your brain
And will drive you insane
'Til you give it a life of its own.
It is born when committed to ink,
And you're in control, so you think.
But it grows like a weed
Once it's finally freed,
Leaving writer on sanity's brink.
Your character acts for himself,
As into the plotline he delves.
Your ego inflates
As you eagerly wait
For the day that your book hits the shelves.
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