My life is like a self afflicted job always seeing the unseen before anybody else
The pen that stay stuck to my hands always writing the unheard before anyone else.

Life of a poet I didn't even prepare my head for the life journey am heading down
Nemesis catching up on me before I make a quick sound
Holding on to a new believe that am left in the ground.

Different changes all around wondering if am still alive
Unseen is like a temporary illness it won't go only with Unheard.