He is a poet
Spends his days and nights
Giving life to his imagination

He chooses meticulously each and every word
Weaves these into a poem
Portraying subtleties of life

But nobody cares about his creations
Nobody recognizes him as a poet
His fruits of labor remains unnoticed and unread
Dying unceremonious death

Undeterred, he keeps on writing
Writing for himself
Writing for his restless soul
Striving to keep his passion flame high
Against all odds