Heaps of words, his lonely mind catches;
Building verses, to every rhyme it matches.
Building verses, to every rhyme it matches.
Sitting in the dark room, his mighty pen wanders;
A land of no man, into a place of wonders.
A music of no sound, plays in his heart;
Rubbing his empty head, he knows it’s the start.
Tackling on minds, through the sands of pain;
Looking back in disguise, when it starts to rain.
Going through the verses, he feels every joy;
Like a crazy baby, with his lovely new toy.
Looking into bright light, he knows his role;
Blink of his warm eye, which touches every soul.
But at the climax, he knows what lies;
Composing through times, all his beauty flies.
He always had knew, that his pen is mightier;
In these game of words, walks a silent fighter.
-Karan Kapuria