Muses Can't Be Housebroken

My knees fail me as I once again,
find myself prostrate on the cold, hard surface of writer's block.
Staring into the face of my ever changing muse, who, has once
again managed to pull my rug of creativity, out from under me.
(*sigh*)

Before I can stop myself, the question of which I already know the
answer escapes my lips....."Why?"

She laughs, my sinister Fate, and replies with a wicked grin,
"Why? You know I can't give you the easy life, little poet. Full of
peace, love, and the security of inspiration whenever you want
it. If I do that, dear girl, you'll become vanilla....ho hum....plain
white bread. Common."
"If I didn't make you suffer, you would never have anything
interesting to say."

(*sigh*)

Muses refuse to be housebroken.