Quilting the Poems

My words do not belong to you to read,
nor they are written aiming for the fame.
This mad like writing is my way to bleed:
technique to cool off ever burning flame.
No treasure there is waiting for my claim,
nor are there monsters ready for defeat;
this neither is rebuttal to some shame,
not even way to write the status-tweets.
Compulsive writing is important need,
a plea from muse of mine to now be freed.

Form Used: Decuain