I write.
I hide.
My parents never knew I make poetry
and every time they ask me:
"It's already late in the evening,
why are you still awake?"
I lied.

I burnt scratch papers of my poems
into million ashes,
'cause they are too many to keep.

It has almost been six years since
I started expressing my thoughts in my pens,
still my parents never knew I make poetry.
I just don't like them to know!
I hope they will be proud of me,
of their son.

So I burnt scratch papers of my poems
into million ashes,
to keep this as a secret.

I write.
I hide.