I know a genius writer
who writes horror,
because his heart
was filled with
anxiety and terror.

he lost his beloved wife,
in the Kingdom by the sea,
and yes,
it is his Annabel Lee.

he is the greatest poet
who ever lived.
he writes with his soul
as dark as the night
but with a pure heart
that create art.  

beauty and sublime,
these two words define him.

his life became miserable
like the stories he wrote,
his death is still unknown
and there were few
people who attended
his funeral,
the world is not that literal.

The Raven took him,
so did the Black cat.

his last words were "Lord, help my poor soul"

I have to ask,
"Is this what a great writer deserve?"

he became penniless in writing,
but it didn't stop him.

writing is not a job,
it's heroism,
it's an obligation,
it's the most humanistic profession.

be proud,
if you can write.