There are many things my pen yearns to scribble on the paper
I bleed and shed tears as i mould my thoughts like a potter
I haunt and growl for ideas like a tiger
I aim the nose and face of my note like a boxer
I guess I am living this life a writer
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I see others soaring like the eagles
I just sit sandwiched with knowledge like Pringles and twingles
When I e'en look at the sky i see twinkles
I don't need a lot of ideas, i need sprinkles
Tho .....badmen and haters saunter in bundles
I yearn and hanker not to fumble
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Mankind.....
What a creature and life so numb and blind
Just yearn for fame and grind
When this world tis an hell of its kind
It becomes naked even with it's rinds
i gat demons attacking me in my presence and behind
In the trickling rain, i just grab my books and my windows i wind......
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