Reason

Out of the respect to all past poets,
and as an inspiration to all future poets,
I stopped writing poems long ago.
Now I write curses in fragments.

Writer's block

Every person is born
with a writer's block.
Lucky ones overcome it
and live with free fingers.
Most can't and die
with poems strangled 
in their fingertips. 
yes... my fingers are 
cemeteries and death beds.
I told them I hate labels.
and they called me a rebel.

Funeral

Last night, I saw a dream.
I was at a funeral.
Tombstone read;
   Tia's poem
   Born-1987
   Died-when she grew up
Everyone was appreciating
me, for being mature at last.

Biography

I sang a song in a new tune
Killed a tomato and fed
the whole world.
I drowned a river
and died in the womb

My lost pencil

I searched my pencil
whole day long.
Couldnt find it so
cried more strong.
At last i found it
in 'her' pink box.
So i stopped crying
and went to play.