We are unknown writers,
Unheard emotions,all we write.
Ink shines inside a worn-out notebook,
Every word orbits like a planet.
Only old souls can understand with a look.
Every word brings heartbreak we can't help but fight.
We weave blanket of sentences through cold nights.
They say writers must burn,
That's how every verse we earn.
We celebrate every single pain,
Bring it down and compare it to rain.
Maybe unknown by face,
But those ink leaves a trace.
Divided by race,
But united by the pain we endure and face.
Silently observe whatever we deserved,
Every ache and dream gets a place.
In a small journal, we survive to chase,
Survive just to end the race
When we are out of trace.
Yet ,stubborn ink is hard to replace.