Train Of Thought Poem by Zubayer Zakir Khan

As far as poetry is concerned
He is way past his prime,
He owes much more,
Than what he has earned
He knows much more,
Than what he has learned,
Yet he could not come up,
With a decent rhyme

He never got to know how or when,
He started to feel the burden of the pen,
His muse; the lonesome city blues
Offered perished words, he could not use
The language of expression,
Always left a wrong impression;
He felt out of place, and out of his mind
So he made castles in the air,
Out of the nothing he was able to find
He was trying to catch up with,
His train of thought,
And he ended up trading himself, for;
For someone he is not