After I Write

I do not like to think of what happens after I write, 

For feeding the soul, is what I do; 

Drenching in mortal pain, it is, in spite, .

The soul gets what it desires, so true. 


Feasibly, cramp my hand would, dire, 

But won't my mind stop, until I write, what it desires. 

And though it hurts, my heavy soul, 

For whom & why I write, a puzzle I bestow. 


I do not prefer to think what may happen

After I write; it's a gut-wrenching fear, 

As a blank life is what I see without writing; 

Words in my mind, shed as tears.


~ Guni

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