He was one too
Using women as nothing but toys!
When not writing plays, he had nothing to do
Oh his words, how they flow!
Ink on the paper
Across the page, to- and- fro
Writing them down, before ideas taper
Inspiration he seeked!
In bad places he searched,
On the pages, his emotions leaked
Quill hits the paper when ideas lurch
Each quirk and flaw, makes me love him more
With each turning page, even more than before.