i am not a poet.
poets are the sad ones awake at three a.m. mourning over the sad loss of their lover.
poets are the ones yearning to love, and to be loved the same.
poets are beautiful, dangerous and tragic. every word that they speak is a dagger in your side, the slow knife that cuts the deepest.
poets are the ones who realise the power of words, so they choose them carefully (they know they could be choosing their fate).
poets know that the absence of words is just as important as the presence.
poets are born, not crafted.
maybe i am a poet.

Curled up beneath the duvet
knees drawn up to chest
inhaling the smokey scent of my fleece
sown fresh nostalgia
I remembered how
we laughed and ate off chinaware
while sipping out of plastic cups
sitting by the fire pit
in the backyard
my eyes wandered
towards the woods at dusk
and I breathed
realizing we are just specks of dust
that glimmer in the light of our Creator.

I took a deep breath ,
I took a little moment ,
Maybe a lot .
The truth is ,
I don't know .
I just don't know .
Im not trying to bringing up things that never exist .
I never know what it's called .
All i know is im sad .
But i don't know why .
Im not sad because of my flaws ,
Not because of my imperfections ,
Not because i miss somebody ,
Not because something bad happens .
It's just that sometimes i feel such a failure .
But i don't know why .
And i wonder if everyone actually feel it too .
Like me...
Took a deep breath again , sigh .
It's hurting .
It's hard to breathe .
And when i breathe , it's like my ribs cage is stabbing me .
It hurts .
Really .

I breathe .
This pain is torturing me ,
I want it to stop ,
But somehow it's addicting .

Somebody ,

Just please...

Save me .