He sits on his bed,
mourns on memories,
stare on the wall,
digests his vocabularies

Wanting to unload
to clean up some cobwebs,
Save thy bleeding soul
encountered in world's progress

Inked experienced dooms,
writes down his mess.
To release the pain,
that infested his chest

drank a bottle,
stays late at night,
A scene of ego and self,
making a fight!

to write by the heart,
yes a lonely sad writer.
He see's the cruel world,
letter by letter

poured the due
stating life's mysteries,
oh pounded heart!
What heavy load he carries.