Saturday, November 1, 2008

Writer (Poem)

I felt like writing,
but my head was filled with nothing,
I wanted to tell you a story about guns a blazing,
i couldnt find the right words so a sentence i could string.

I fear for my ability to write,
im scared it might die and my life will never take flight,
I fear that one day i might stop making sense,
because tomorrow is another day i get moe dense,

I fear i cant stop for a while to smell and see the good things all around,
in sunshines and rains and the road outward bound,
I fear to not live life as i have,
or at least not write about living life as i have.

I fear that of which people cannot comprehend,
when the best things in life i cannot apprehend,
I drink the sovereign drink of beauty and love,
yet im only drunk on hate and nothingness,

the hangover though is a piece of yesterday i wish i could re-live,
and the regret is that i cannot hide the feelings i have,

yet i wake again tomorrow,
for same life i believe will bring me sorrow,
because tomorrow..... maybe ill die and no one will be drowned in sorrow....

2 comments:

Emila Yusof said...

great poem, Summer! Keep it up!

thanks for dropping by both my blogs! Do drop by again!

best
emila

Sabrina said...

Thanks sis emila,

but it's not my writing.. it is Hanafee's.