And I wrote...

It’s crazy how times you are in,
Can so easily influence your expression,
How love, or hatred, or misery,
Make you articulate,
So candid, a confession

It’s unbelievably true how,
The sad ones, the writings,
Pitch easier than their happy counterparts
How a woman can make you a splendid poet,
Write verses of feelings, unstopped.

It’s foolish to reason,
How words aren’t enough,
To the voice the child,
That delves in my mind.
Yet all that’s written is a revelation,
Even to the writer of the line.

It’s a different league they say,
Of writers or poets,
Or lyricists, all the same,
They speak their mind,
Fearless, persuasive,
Yet criticised alike,
For being ahead of their times

And so I write too, unafraid,
Not withered, nor scared,
Of the critic, or the rival
Yet each moment, I go through
In life, gives me a reason,
To stand by my expression