It starts with millions of words
And it falls with its rhythm
A writer lost in his world
Chained to his imaginary freedom
In that prison he lives in
He sings but only the bars listen
Is he the fated city of collision?
Only nails to stone he carves a mission
The moon light is courting me
The vision of beliefs, it is
The only light in this prison
In the night the unaware sleeps
When ink & sheets turn to terrorism
That feather is my kingdom
My salvation and my home
Those words taught me wisdom
Will the world ever know?
We sink to the depth of oceans
As simple words comfort our hearts
They’re our storms, our devotion
Our long forgotten art
M.O.A 
“He sings but only the bar listens” Nice words my friend…Nice write again. Here’s a question: Do you feel imprisoned? You write good and draw good (to which I think you have to post your drawings here and create another blog for it). 😉