Find The Way Me
My pen weeps a lot to pour the ink.
Alien grumps are what i heard so often,
Sounding from it.
Pensive mood accompanying
exposing sorrowful state of my tool.
Stop ! Why are you sobbing in grief ? i asked in haste.
I have drowned in the the illusion causing distress.
wandering in thought of what
the effect might stress.
From here, it whispered into me
the reason behind the strains.
Oh ! My ribs, my hands implored
on behalf of this, holding the pen.
Holding for what ? holding to pen
down my pleading voice;
Please, find the Way for me.