I want to write a story
A story of the mundane things
Yet whenever I picked up my pen,
I can hear their voices
One say, that it is the painful voice of others
Recorded in my mind, as my anxiety
Replays it so that I won't continue
Say, is my story worthless?
As I'm shaking, kept erasing the words
I can't help myself but to keep writing
These mundane stories, this free poem
For I believe, there's no such thing as vain
For one, this is beauty
For others , this is insignificant
Isn't everything so nonsense?
That one sees it so differently
Say, my friend, is my view not in your taste?
If acceptance and rejection is the measure of my work's worth,
Then let me tell you, I am a writer
And as such, I'll keep writing
