My little fire.

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Tick...tick...tick...the clock is ticking,

I sit right here, with my pen clicking.


What to think of, What to write.

My mind yells, " Hush, everything'll be alright."


Hmmm...seems like my life is closing.

After all the attempts my brain still lays frozen.


Strawberries, roses and apples. Why can't my life be that simple?

But Alas! hurricanes and famines: somewhere stuck in the middle.


Topics upon topics upon topics. What have I done?

Tried everything, but still.. my mind is numb.


Watched a movie, seen a show. Oh what do i do more?

Life is being wasted away.. null of joy, full of bore.


Wind is blowing, light is flickering, pages are turning.

Screaming at me to prevent this spark from dying.


Keep it up and keep on feeding. the little spark to a full blown fire.

the fire which was once there for me, helping me in my despair.


So I do. Letting the tip of the pen jot away.

Every little thing I'm feeling with no delay.


Only for me to realise that this is what I've always had.

An intense fire burning for the art of writing. I'm glad,


Glad that it won't ever die as

it is all I've got and all I'll ever need.


My little fire burning deep inside of me.

burning me, consuming me, till I'm no more than a distant thought of thee... 



AN

Dedicated to each and every person I've ever known.




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