Crossing by a half baked poetry
I found it on the pan over
Half dried fired woods of words
Smoky all around
Suffocation of my breathing process
Searching for water or 
something more flammable

I don’t know why,
why the point there is me
Many paths scatter from there

I lift up a pen
Pick up a blank paper
Collect some special words
Synchronise some unique feelings
Assuming fragrance in mind
Feeling dust in heart
All the effort you can put
I do
But I always get a half baked poetry
Crossed from half baked poetry
Finished at half baked poetry
And I’m always in search of water
Or something more flammable