I write,
I always have,
I forever will...
Of unwritten sagas,
Lost in time,
Of moments captured,
In unforgiving memories...
I write,
To avoid being rot...
I write of things untold,
To me from myself...
Unintentional of getting carried away,
By the sway of words,
Of the glorified men,
Who hold a better pen than mine,
Or those whose words,
Breathe a better breath than mine...
I write not to gain acclaim,
From men,
Who make little difference,
To my tales...
I write to get used to writing,
Those unfortunate words,
Which shall pass,
The many stages of self criticism,
In an attempt to lose their glory,
To words of men,
More acclaimed than mine...
I don’t write,
To change the world,
It never will,
It always hath...
My feeble words hold no power,
To bring a change,
In the phenomenon,
Of truth and lies,
Which is captured often,
In many conspicuous words...
I write not,
To be written about,
I write to keep writing,
And to be lost,
Under unwritten sagas,
Of untold men...
So that my words,
May become immortal,
And shine like stars,
Among the more celebrated ones...
