Who do I think I have become,
I talk with words bigger than my size,
Why did I have to go and be disrespectful?
I started putting words on paper, was I thinking I can be a writer,
How can you write if you don’t own a pen?
My yard has no tree stump for paper manufacturing, what was I thinking?
A writer is who has a pen and paper, I am wrong.
A writer is gifted, God gave them the ability of putting words on paper,
A talent that can move masses without the speaker’s mouth opening.
I just became alike a juvenile delinquent dissing freedom,
Unwittingly trembling the dignity of masses who perished acquiring freedom,
I am not a writer.
All doings was just wishful thinking.
I woke up and realised,
I’m in someone’s back yard;
Trespassing.
Let poets write poems,
Let leaders lead the masses,
Let spectators watch and listen with astonishment,
I am not a writer, I just know a writer.
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