The pen bleed, shivering in the hands of the heartbroken
The heart long to be free, free from the weight of the burdened
The story that I write, the ink on the papers
Are my stories, the product of my deeds
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Read them carefully and learn
The years are too short to learn all that is in life alone
Read them precept by precept
Because it's my years summed up in a paper
The story that I write, are half path covered
In every ink, perceive the lessons
Because poem are not just words throw into air
They are stories of thousands heart, pen down in inks