Go on… I dare you

You’ve read the poem, reached the end,
you’ve met the foe, you’ve mourned the friend,
you’ve given ten whole minutes too —
so what’s another line or two?

Go on... I dare you.
Write a review.

No thesis needed, no PhD,
no deep critique of imagery,
no lengthy prose on what it meant —
just let them know ‘twas time well spent.

Go on... I dare you.
Write a review.

The viewing counter climbs with glee,
from twenty-two to twenty-three.
So someone’s been, that much’s true —
then fled before they could say boo.

Go on... I dare you.
Write a review.

Three thousand words, or maybe more,
have dripped from brain onto the floor.
The pages torn by endless scribble,
as stubborn words come at a dribble.

Go on... I dare you.
Write a review.

The hours that flee into the night,
words that scream with tortured fright,
a life that never sees the clock,
as fingers seize with writer’s block.

Go on... I dare you.
Write a review.

Now one can lose the will to live,
what should I write, what can I give?
A simple sentence, ‘Nicely done,’
might coax to life another one.

Go on... I dare you.
Write a bloody review.