I write up,
when my ink want to penned,
and my soul crie out to loud speaks,
then i delineates, by my words,
which i compose via my inner scribbled ink,
i inscribe by the luster of voice’s soul,
which plays, a essential role,
of the different phases of all,
the deep pain of inner,
and emotions of the personage.
where i indite, when my soul feels to penned,
this is the way; where my inks reach,
at the place of that emotions of zone.
there is so much of tone and tint of own,
word hues into deep wrapped within.
to describe to more,
the voice of roar. the reason,
haven’t need any seasons,
it generates inside in as a rain of storm,
as an ink scribbled on the page it bleeds eternal of the core,
deep down inside in,
nobody knows what I feels,
me and my pages…