Cursed by the quil
Let the ink of my quil flow through the veins of my
hand and compel my weak hands trace through the countless parchments laid before me which my restless lips cannot profess .Before the bright morning, let the bodily frame work of my helpless
body seek rest before the golden sunbeams
Let the curses of my tired soul be entangled by
the might of the ceaseless ink of my quil
which surpass and gush forth from the deepest
depth of the oceans and streaming down from
the highest mountains known to men.
Let history recognize the highest risks taken
by cursed writers whose quils help to
liberate renown writers.