Who Am I
Who Am I1 min 289 1 min 289
My pen stopped to ink
My computer hanged while I tried working
A stack of books kept unopened
On the table lying unread
Giving me a smile.
I was a writer once
My fountain pen was my best friend
I ran all over collecting memories
From the computer to checking mails every hour
Barely finding any striking motive today
Barely producing thought-provoking titles
Such a novice freak in me
I spent the whole day exploring without failing
My pen has become good for nothing.
My heart aches now, craving for something new to the craft
And I failed, tried again, and failed.
Everything fell into pieces again
I consoled my writer's self.
I paid for all my skills, got full attention and planned to restart
Dawn pious fresh, morning birds chirping.
It smelled so sweetly, rejuvenated that aimless wanderer
When countless words fill my papers with colors
I wondered who was I, what have I become, a best-seller writer !!!