I woke up from another nightmare, dim and void memories continue to replaying like an old broken plaque. The sound of it is extremely irritating, it's boisterous. I place my hands in my ears to cover it; for capable not to hear it however it's silly!— on the grounds that those sound are coming from my mind.
I gradually moved my hand to grab my phone and play some music . As the beat begin to play I forcefully shake my head as though it will discard every one of my thoughts outside my head. The entire day I make a honest effort to keep myself busy but I guess playing pretend is such a rough work.
And now it's dark and still dark for me maybe because I'm still stuck in these filthy nightmares, but one thing for sure that I wanted to thankful about, by walking in these void, dark and dull memories of nightmares is that this called “self" keep holding and holding me, despite our fear to this uncertainty.
My hope is not yet fading, and I know this nightmare we are facing will just call a dream one day.
Someone long ago had determined that
I was just another in the herd
Other than knowing how to rhyme
I was no good with words
The day I got rid of them
And unbearable became the pain
I picked up my pen
And began writing unsteadily again
Unsure of what and how to write
Unsure of shape and form
Slowly as I persisted writing
I slowly mentally broke my norm
It took 4 years of writing
To find confidence in my words
The day I wrote about us again
For the better it changed my world
Today my words know
Exactly what to say
I am a writer today
And a writer I’ll always stay