Author Of Pain

People call me crazy Neither am I living nor am I dead No one seems to understand my story I gather the flames of the rising sun Slowly, slowly, I burn completely Then I scratch the ashes in the dusk When everything eradicates and becomes dust No one would be able to understand my story What kind of circumstance is this Someday, I’ll write my story in books Whosoever reads my books Shall understand my story The people can see my happiness But they can’t see my sorrows And pains But when they read my books They will all see my pains and say Indeed, he is a tearjerker Author Filled with pains no one could understand.