Dear Wordsmith
Where have you been?

Have you forsaken your art
or thy art has forsaken thee

Where now... do you keep?...
the words spiralling in your head

Those words you ****** to me
Every time you're sick, lonely and weak

Have I moved from being your favourite girl
to your long-forsaken ex

When last was it you pick your pen
and make me ouch like it's first time *

Scribing those words; tattooing my skin
Fantasising every bit of my whim

Did you not miss my kiss
Those goosebumps we feel; when we scroll through each other's skin

Why have thee forsaken thy art
Has anyone broken thy heart
Has your world fallen apart

Is it family feuds or country's nukes
thats rampaging your being from deep within

Just tell me; I'll be' the comforter I've always been
Dust your chin up and get back on your feet
Please don't abolish your dreams
No, you mustn't fall apart at the seam

If you're a philospher; a deep-thinker
A Richard Cypher; I mean a truth-seeker
A teach-er; whose thought linger...
on spaces farther
farther from higi-haga
Or some silly wishy-washer
If you belong to this division; holla; let me see ya

If you are a dreamer; an uprighter
A sleepwalker; a future teleporter
A fine writer; a real rhyme slayer
A hoper; a believer; a true-preacher
If you're a realer; come sit by my fire

Witty writers with wishy-washy writes
Rhyming everything that comes to em mind
With every beat that cross em heart
Uncertainty and confusion though surround his live
Struggling to revive his injured vibe  
Like autunm tree; they think he died  
Poor and ugly; they paint him black  
Couldn't find love, no, he couldn't thrive  
Beauty shred but he still survive  
They even named him "the brokest ***** alive"  
 
But see, words has always been his spine  
His greatest ally when troubles arise
When the moon, the sun and the earth collide  
And the sky is tiled with a scary clime  
Clouding his heart, eclipsing his mind  
poem brought smile with its lines as guide  
So if not for rhyme, depressions could've ruin his life  
Writing to him is what oxygen is to the heart

Dear Me,
I know your esteem has been trampled on
I know your boots' pervaded with sharpened thorn
your dream; shattered and your heart grinded to atom

everyone you love has either hurt you or more
And when you needed them is when they did abscond
Taking away your joy; departed... never to return

Emptied and depressed, your very being..s.. forlorn
Your emotions boiled and your feeling toyed
Those psych smile are a true sign that you are deformed

You tried to be strong; but your brokenness can't be restored
Your mind and heart doesn't seem to get along
Your soul quaver and your spirit mourn
But your face gets paler at the sight of those you adorn

You've done your all to be more in this world
You've loved and loved, and you've been loved times and more

Though you're dying now, but you're bound to be reborn
in the heart of those you truly love, you'd be martyr when you're gone

Can love and hate coexist in a single being
Can a heart halved in pain and peace maintain its rhythm still
Can the angel without its wings sour through the galaxies

Can there ever be a Eve, without Adam's rib...
Can there even be a me without thee; my zephyrette
With you; right by me, I'm a quadrillion times complete

Only you have the combo of beauty and brilliant mixed
And like the settling sun garnish the beauty of the autumn leaves....
You lighten my path from the nooks to every whim

I write because I can't
be alive without my rhyme
My mind are so sporadic; I act like I'm ah psychic
My spirit's so Islamic; but I rhyme like I'm fanatic

I love like I'm ah nerd
And I was treated like crap
My thought got too dynamic; so I script like I'm an addict
Till my world got tore apart