Call Me a Poet
Broken by miseries of life
I became nib of pen
People call me "poet"
In puzzles of night
i spill my pain over the lonely pages
I find my sumptuous pillow
In bossom of silence
Life is as short as winter solstice
and art is evergreen leaf on the "tree of immortality"
I live in hearts as lyrics of love ballads
It is strenous to get actual gist of my verses
i intend to end up as a poem
Call me a poet
I am caravan of memories
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