bear with me

How I Became a Writer

So I thought I should do,

But what; I queried

No answer came to me

I forced he wasn't that blunt but

He spoke I can't believe

All for he was quite tired in

Yearning love and affection

Be a poet, I stood my hands

Shook; no clue why

Still I calmed myself

So this is how I began

To laugh what is

The matter with it

He pressed a cold stone

It felt heavy I shuttered

A cold laughter surrounded me

I knew I wasn't myself now

Took three breath as my parents taught me

To be aloof of wrong desires of my own

Foolish how they think of me

Two faces it sweetens my character

I thought about it and once again sat

Keys and fingers had to dance now

They seemed to be reluctant but somehow

The coldness warmed calmed

It was bliss like when

I breathed truly for the first time

That's how I choose to be a writer

- reva
A Wanderer of life