Pleasure of poetry

There’s a storm, I hold in my heart,

For all I suffered in my past .

All my anger, sadness,joy and grief are stored beneath my scar.

I was as lonely as a bear,

Never had someone to wipe my tear.

The only way I had to speak, Was to work on my art

An art where I can jumble my word and can be heard.

So I started writing my life into my diary of delight

It’s a joy to see that your art is out to the crowd as ballad.

And when people relate to the spring and winter of your life,

That’s the point where you’ll realize,

Power of poetry is divine.


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