Our worthy writer, lack words
As he say,
So Mr. writer, “What is that which kills you?”
“Nothing”, reply the worthy writer
” Just the work thing “, the lie augments.
” Oh! Come’on, you lie to everyone “,
” Not this time atleast”, I rapport,
“Seriously, All’s cool”
the wrothy writer fights back,
And lies strongly this time.
“So Sir, then what is that which stole me from you?”,
” I don’t know”, the perplexed writer responds,
“Something is killing you”
“I don’t consider it necessary to answer you”
defies our worthy writer.
Fifteen days have passed since this conversation,
Today again, a vainless attempt is triggered
“Hey, Again today” greet I,
“Yeah! Just hoping to get back some worth today”,
” Nah, you won’t”, I reply and that ends it all.
Worthy writer writes something,
Just something, with his broken angry words.
Just for the sake of writing.
“This is definitely not a poem”, growls our worthy writer
“The pursuit of happiness has definitely stolen myself from me”
Our discontented writer SIGHS.