Are Emos Monopolising The Muse? Poem by Dan Reynolds

Why would there be one single, sacred source?
One muse with different guises to direct
each poor poetic soul upon their course
along the path to share their intellect?

Perhaps this creature really does exist
within the upper reaches we reserve?
Those words penned by a quick flick of the wrist
are guided by this strange unnatural nerve

attached to some remote part of the brain,
A seldom fired electron is the spark.
as automatic writing, shows again
which ones of us have true links with the Dark.

Is poetry the passions of the sick?
Well how do you explain the Limerick? ; ¬)