Sitting in my study i stare at the blue wall,
Fidgeting with my sister's favorite doll,
I find it awkwardly hard to pen down thoughts,
For the words shuffle up as i try to untie the knots.
My eyes glance at the withered pages,
At all that i wrote, that took me ages,
The smell of the pages reaches the nose,
To my mind it seems like i have had my own tranquilizer's dose.
My pen forbids me from writing anymore,
And my hands tremble after i write a line or more,
My voice quivers whenever i try to read it out aloud,
And the ears don't hear now, 'cause they are not allowed.
There was a time when i wrote with all the zeal and aptness,
But now something's gone missing,maybe it's the prowess.
My mind says that i am doing nothing but wasting my time,
It asks me to work on something that's atleast worth a dime.
My heart pleads to me to write on,
Write from the dusk through the dawn.
But i want to write and write forever,
with all the passion and the never-ending fervor.
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