Toiling as I do, a slave to the pen.
Toiling for the now to escape my then.
Digging to the root to understand my branches,
looking at the time that determines my chances.

Zealous like a Chinaman after his Yen,
bleeding ink like am tryna hospitalize my pen.
Join my worlds like a stapler,
writing furious like al decapitate the paper!

Burning urge to sire imagination,
lure minds to my desired direction.
Words seeping up my vein, voice and eyes start to strain,
my brain to my conscience stains as tears of words start to strain.

My will is bent,
my ego is left adent,
my urge a release is lent.
The battle is declared, I lift pen like a flare….

Determined to bring light in darkness via might.
At the very point that my soul is required to fight or fall in fright.
That is when I write…

© jemedari