The Nameless Writer 2

We write, by the name
of One, and the same

We write, we claim
self satisfaction, or even fame

As we write, and stop, and write some more
And time passes but we ignore

For words are coming out, or some are stuck inside
The silence we shout unheard, so we write

For the moment we think of us absurd
That's the real thing, the real word

Sometimes we are not agreed,
And for it we bleed,
But if we don't proceed,
When will we succeed?

We learn, we earn.
If we are not humble, we'll be in trouble.

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