He is a writer
who wrote a number of letters
that formed a continuous crater
in the heart of his seekers.

Yet do you know how he's feeling?
Under the pressure you keep giving,
his poetry does not stop striving
because he loves what he is doing.

But on a piece of paper, sadness could be written
Anxiety could be spoken
Loneliness could be hidden
And depression—there's no end.

What has he come out of it?
If in the end, only his readers will benefit?
Is it really worth it?
Dying alone in this perpetual pit?