Writing a book

One day, I have decided

That I will write a book

I started right away

Without bothering for a second look
I wrote a few words

Thousand,I guess, in number

I have read those and thought

Could I be any more dumber?
You have to draft it

Many people have told me

After reading the second time

I wanted to dump it in a sea
I suck at writing

I told myself, again

What is there in this

For me to gain?
I thought it was a dream

But it was a passing phase

I lost track of my calling

In this wild goose chase
Would I ever write again?

I have no goddamn idea

I realized writing was

Not my strong area
Lost, deep in thought

I sat down to see

If there was any hope

For this writer to be
I might never write again

What would that prove?

That at the first failure

I’ll ditch and move?
That’s not what I

Will be remembered by

I vowed then, that

I will try again, till I die
And I started trying

Hopefully for a better one

No matter the failures

I will never be done


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