Writing Is Like...

A song that flows 

through watery groves.

The lyrics unclear,

Yet so good to hear.

A rebel that breaks

through ruler's mistakes.

The actions scary,

A burden he carries.

A chaos that spreads

through bodies of dead.

The confusion settles,

In blood-stained rose petals.

I don't know what it wants for me,

To do, to write, to make, or to see.

But one thing's for sure, and it's that,

I don't care if you like it or not.

Though it'd be nice if you like it too,

But a writer should be judged by his stories,

Like a singer should be judged by her songs,

And I should be judged by my humanity.