fester-whatsoever, was that,
my pen wasn't that ken,
many a times I stand to write,
but weak I feel and felt no to..
days came with no words
I slept all night thinking;
and yet couldn't see.
why was I a poet,
by the way I failed English;
you made me a firm, when you knew me not.
what good have I wrote you see right,
was that by words, I mean by such in your sight
I lamed by you if could make be, in my dream.