when these thoughts come in my mind,
with high pressure as blood beats,
pumping my brain veins.
I'm still in coma,
i can't define myself,
even if my eyes focus my target,
and my nose smells my enemies.
My life is as baloon,
flying in the darken sky,
with heavy rains that make it soaked,
and sharp winds that refuse to let it dry.
As a teen student as a writer,
with dreams lost in the wind,
because no more money for school fees,
and how does this poor widow mom can fend for kids,
while we slept with empty stomachs?!
what should i do?
performing poetry on stages with no pay?
or writing books proposals with publishers delay?
i indeed don't know my destination.