Mind where my pen is

It's quiet unsettling,

How my mind could write,

Even when am not myself

It gives me a new life.

Oh of those people who live through me,

Of the life i wished i had with me.

My sadness is just a way of my world,

As my mind writes a poem,

A poetry or a verse.

Hence i live through my characters,

With tall and might,

As i sit on my chair

Having to see a depressed life.