For months I've been trying to write
Trying to keep my pace, trying to fight
Organizing my words...it felt like suffering from a concussion
'Cause in scribbling I see no passion.
For weeks I've been trying to read
Fiction stories I love indeed
Thank you, Lori Brighton
I was able to explore the world in a new dimension.
For days I've been trying to recall
My childhood, my Mother, and all
A sweet nostalgia of my innocence
Pure bliss and contentment now exists only in reminiscence.
For hours I've been trying to focus
Losing my concentration, losing my conscious
It's not that I'm not good with meditation
But I think I badly need some self-medication.
For minutes I've been trying to cry
Keeping it silent, concealing it with a smile
Somewhere in my heart still aches
But I'm hoping by December it will never break.
For seconds I've been trying to collect my thoughts
Am I going crazy? Scary...but it can be true.
I'm afraid I might end up wrong
But for my dreams, I will still hold on.