(This one is short and sweet. A little Napkin poem as I like to call them :D)
Throw me in a battlefield and I will fight with my pen.
Never have I regretted silence more than I did then.
Paint me with the screams of orphans until they can no longer feel their pain.
The soul of a writer can not be contained.
But I am no writer.
I am no author of graceful poetry.
I am no artist of twisting words.
I am a Heart. I am a Soul. I am a Mind. A Human. A Muslim.
But I am no writer.
These are not words that flow from this pointed tool.
This is not ink that scrolls across these pages.
I am a fighter.
This quill is my weapon.
This ink is liquid justice.
So watch out dear enemies.
My revolution is now immortal.
