They ask me why do i write?
Some of them think I do it for leisure, and for some to show off my little literature,
Some of them feel I write to prove myself, and for some I’m pretending to look like a nerd.
Well, sadly, may be none of them could ever understand…
How much every writing heart bleeds, and wanna vent out all that is suffocating him indeed.
How he struggles, screams, and cries… yet never lost that sunshine embedded inside,
How much he loves the purest flow of emotions, carved on the blank non judgemental piece of papers,
Expecting nothing but only honesty from its readers.
Yes, I’m also among those bleeding yet passionate hearts,
And, yes I too write…
I write just to contribute some raw emotions in this world full of fancy filters.
I write, somewhat, for the same reasons.