Orginal Poem - I'm A Writer

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While I was alone,
There was fire shut in my bone.
I groaned and groan.

What is the cause?
I'm not cursed
I paused,

Who am I?
A writer.
I needed an extinguisher
Needed to put out the fire

Should I call the fire fighters?
Or should I use water?
No, none is right,
I'm meant to write
Shine the light so bright.

I staggered, took the pen
I wrote in my book,
Exactly what was burning in me
As I wrote, the pain was brought to an end
I felt cool, like waters in the brook.
This is me!

This is what I'm called to do,
Shine the light, no matter how small it looks,
It might be a fire, large enough to burn a forest,
Or one, small enough just to light a candle
You never can tell, what it will do,
Just write,
Yeah, that's right, write!


After a long while, I finally wrote a poem.


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