Why I Write?
To impress?
No!
To be called a writer?
Maybe
For a smiling pen could poke the mind of his riders
It could paste the said title on his wordings
Writer is a figher
With his word that is a sword
Of cutting the pain of ignorance down
In the readers
For a good writer could knots his ropes
With a falling tears of the soldiers' wives
He could knock the bald of a critic
With a pen of imagination
He could ignite the fire of passion
On a wandering cloud
With a sense of humour
On the sound of a busiest train
With an echoes and silence
Writer is a writer
Believe it or not
I want to know why I write
To ease my pain?
For my pains were fading
With the beauty of patience!
And successful humans were destined to be hated
By their reckless family and friends.
01.10.2022 C.E
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem