At Musing's End

It's been so long since I pencilled in my feelings,

I still vividly remember the first time I ever writ out of pain;

Fought to exist betwixt love and hate,

It became my only inspiration for my verses;

It was only during the serenest moment of the night,

While I watched the world sleeps,

That I could put my broken words into rhymes..

I never thought I was good at spoken words, or written rhymes,

But life has so much pain that one needs a catharsis..

In a way or another, all writers are damaged, and wanted to be heard,

So I posted my writings on the net,

But somehow, the reticent part of me didn't want to be seen;

So I unwrittened them all,

After all, those were not written or meant for anyone,

But a shattered part of me..

Who would believe my verse in time to come anyway?

Some say life is accidental and meaningless,

On an accidental day, I came across a poem of mine;

The exact familiar words, penned in by the night years ago,

It was recalled by a writer across the other side of the ocean..

I did a search,

To find that a dozen people had reprinted the same rhymes I composed,

Suddenly being reminded - fragment of lost words, elusive rhymes,

Did we begin to see the pain we all carry..

After all,

The story of a man, is the story of all men..