Pencil ends bitten
Notebook pages filled
Pen nibs broken
Erasers milled
Stacks of books
Disrupted on the tables
He sits and weaves
The loveliest of all fables
Imagine. Write. Check. Hack
Repeat the process again
An unsaid hope - the hard work
Doesn't go down the drain
He reads it over - once, twice, thrice
Re-checking what would fit
A writer's day never ends
Even after evening lamp lit
The pay could be meagre
Though the effort too high
But a writer loves his life
Spinning out webs from a lie
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