I’m in the middle of the woods I’m lost,
I’m sitting in a table with thirst,
There lies an unwritten paper infront of me,
I’m holding a pen rolling it thousand times,
My mind so blank I am lost,
I look around but all I see is nature.
A drop of ink in a paper I start to write,
I look left there’s a bookcase of mine,
I look right I see my escape room, the bedroom.
Finally I feel at home again,
All I needed was a pen and a paper,
A poet never looses it’s roots when there’s a pen and a paper,
With poetry I am alive.