I may not be as talkative as I write poems.
May I compare you with me?
For what am always doing.
To write is part of my food to me,
I get hungry if am not touching a pen or pencil.
No one came to me to make me like to write.
Everyday my mind thinks to do the best thing,
And often it is my choice,
No one shall stop me to walk on the road of writing,
No one shall make me leave writing.
So can I compare you with me?