Writer's Plight

Whole life closed

And tied and carrying the

Bundle on head

Tatter pages echoing in my ears

Split dark ink spots like smudge

On career

Screaming freedom!

Don't ask me how I died

In this pretending holy world.

Do you write fantasy

With frantics?

And get your noble face shaved

With haruki

Do you lose this noose around

Our throat?

Before burning us with cruelty

You will see smoke that make

You cry

That is enough for tribute

Much maligned before ousting

There is no place anywhere to live

Except for your heart

We are millions with you anytime

But you don't cry my dear writer!

You are walking with us to search

Shelter.

Be strong let us burn

We would come again with

High surge inside you

To touch the sky.