the golden dust of books enticed me,
it breathed and blossomed in me,
i forgot what my body looked like without it.
there in front of mirror i was hesitating.
this new look of mine was breathtaking
yet for a moment it felt agitating.
such a show was put on by the ones i adored.
yet what could i ever do?
mixed in system, ruining my reason
pacing my heart and became my identity.
'a poet' is all I'll ever be,
writing, writing, writing
is all i ever did,
ever do and keep on doing,
so if i reduce this writing of mine then it will be no shorter than of me .