Dear Friend

Why shouldn’t I quit?

When all my writings are not elite

Why shouldn’t I relent?

When I cannot make good use of my talent

Why shouldn’t I just give up?

When I have never heard the word “keep it up”

Why shouldn’t I feel too bad?

When those who read doesn’t even feel glad,

Why shouldn’t I feel so down casted?

When my dream for writing look out casted,

Why shouldn’t I lose focus?

When my point of view is an invading locust,

Why shouldn’t I fear?

When I cannot face any dare,

Why shouldn’t I fear criticism?

When I don’t have any writing citizenship.

Why shouldn’t I be tears?

When some might read this in their cheers,

Why should I feel happier?

When I feel like a less-valued writer,

Why shouldn’t I be pained?

When my writing bring no gains

Why shouldn’t I be reserved?

When I don’t get what I deserved,

Why the outpour of frustration?

When defeat came like a concentration,

Why shouldn’t I run away from challenges?

When my best and worst are at close range

Why this hunger in anger?

When my dearest one just helps me feel better

Why shouldn’t they be low self-esteem?

When this writing is getting to it extreme

Even my title is my moving mantle

Even my rhymes are lame like lime

Even my best is like a test

Even the lines are without verse

Why shouldn’t I deviate?

When my write-up are for those I relate

I even try to praise God with my books

But it is an understatement from my look

I don’t wish to be celebrated,

Because not everyone want me to be elevated,

Hmm, I am silently wishing to be appreciated,

Instead, I am highly tolerated,

My books is fighting with my pen

My head is quarrelling with my heart

My blood is no longer in the mood

My eyes has refused to shed tears

Why shouldn’t I back down?

When my motive has been given a cut-down

Why is my dream like a television?

And does my vision look wary as a stream

Why shouldn’t I feel hurt?

When I am drowned in my thought

Why is my writing like a dim light?

It is too blurred for my reader’s eye

Why should there be depression?

In my shaky and prickly expression

Why shouldn’t I be so sub-conscious?

Even in my concern and my conscience