Writing Pain Poem by Lokendra Singh

I love to write with an Ink pen
But my Ink is not an ordinary one
With colours like blue, red or green
I have an ink pot full of tears
Whenever my pen dries
I fill it up with my tears
This ink-pot never gets empty
No matter how much I do write
As there can be a day when
I could not write
But there has not been a single day
When I have not filled
The ink-pot with my tears
My poems and my thoughts
Have been written in the papers or pads
But who is there who can read the ink of tears?
Who is there whose hands also wets by my tears
In effort of reading them
When people see my poems they think
It is an empty paper
Evert time I saw the paper to them
Every time they laughed at me
They envisaged that I am making a joke
But none could ever guess
It was never an empty paper
It was or has been a written paper
Or I fervently hope that
It will be a written paper