Why I still Write

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When life trials were beginning,
Humans were poking in and out,
Sitting in a corner, hopeless,
I sought some gift from almighty.

Words drenched me, one night,
I smiled even in all the pains,
For I discovered a gem within,
Something resided, distinguishing me.

Some encouraged, some laughed,
Some saw talent, some saw digression,
Still in one phase, all strings broke,
Leaving it aside, I thought I will live.

Beats of my heart, resided on paper then,
Gathering all willpower, I became stubborn,
Masked the reality, penned some fiction,
And I wrote again, and continue to do still.

One fine autumn, I took the challenge,
To write a poem, every day, this month,
Missed sometimes, got late at others,
But completed it, in abstract.

Days in, days out, the year went,
Now I struggle to write each day,
But I still keep the promise to oneself,
For these minutes, are all mine.

I keep my word, I keep my peace,
I find my moment, when the world sleeps,
To be prompted, to be expressed,
What no one, but only I seek.

Written as part of OctPoWriMo Writing Prompt Day 9: Do I Have to Do This?

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5 thoughts on “Why I still Write

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