Why write when you can speak?" They say.
Are words and sounds not the same?
But the world through a paper is not just a picture to me.
It's a message frozen in time.
The truth of our past in lines.
A history of our thinking and a way to "unthink" our present.
A filter of thoughts and sentences
A train to some emotions we might never embrace again.
My pen cannot rest till perjury evicts out from you.
My pen cannot rest till I tell you the story you suppress
My pen cannot rest till I create a world better than what I see.
Bleed oh mighty pen, bleed.
Scream out the voice of the man murdered for greed
Scream also for the child aborted for a fee
Scream ! Tell it all , till I am out of words.
I maybe restless with you
But only in restlessness can I command change.
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