To a literature life

One after the other,
I hook a poem onto you,
for all I know is to
express into these silent poems.

I can be frank to
you, to a blank page
which, I hope, can
contain my agony and pain.

I never prepare words,
they come from heart and,
I listen to them
pen down with nuetrality.

I awe a great sense of
relief to you as you come
to me for giving
absolute freedom to my feelings.