Writers Breathe Words
Writers breathe words
They live in their own
world of imagination
They create their
own earth and colorful sky
They erect their castle
with sonnets and ballads
They build the wall
of solitude around them
When they peep through
their windows
and take a glimpse of
the real world
their soft hearts can't
bear the harshness
of the world
It is so difficult for them
to accept the reality
They get confused
They try hard to convince
themselves that
it is not true
The world could not
be so ruthless
It must be an illusion
And they immediately
close their windows
They are happy in
their self created
paradise
Where there is only
one religion,
The religion of humanity
Where there is only
one language,
The language of love
It may seem
the world of illusion
for the rest of the world
But the community of
creators are happy
in their heaven.
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