compilation of self-made poems

is there a writer in me?

Some people were born with a silver spoon in their mouth,but me,i was born with a ballpen in my hand.

Eversince,i became aware of my existence,I had nurtured this passion of putting into a piece of paper every new word that i encountered and every new adventure that i experienced.

Writing had really became the very best outlet of my emotional baggage and imaginative visions. And as the years went by,a dream to become a writer was created. Though,admittedly,there wasn't any special writing skill to be pulled out of me.

We never had a writer in our family tree...I never had any ancestor who became a writer. Conclusively,a writer's blood never run through my veins. I have never met anyone who claimed theirselves as a writer and i can never classify myself in the same category...a frustrated writer perhaps.

Passion. This is what my writing means to me. I love putting into an ink every thought,every feeling,every experience that comes alonh my way. This gives me a countless happiness and pleasure. When my hand strikes to write,i find my refuge from this cruel world. It's as if everything will fall in the right places and that no worries ahead of me. I feel the peace and serenity.

And here i am now, facing a blank sheet of paper,trying to produce some brilliant ideas dancing freely on my brain.

Despite some grammatical errors and poor construction of sentences and paragraphs,i will write spontaneously, call me frustrated but i will be so willing to make this God-given talent as my stepping stone to a wonderful life.