Poem: Hallucination

My forehead burned red hot
My fever was getting worse
But my hope was rekindled
When I looked up and saw you
At my French doors.

You strode inside with grace
Your long white gown trailing behind you
It was almost as if you were floating
Like an angel just walked into my room
I couldn't believe my teary eyes.

You were here, to my disbelief
I cried tears of joy and shook with delight

You were finally here
After I longed for you so desperately
I couldn't help but get up
Rush to you and encase you in my arms
Beg you to stay forever

When I rushed up, I fell down
Hitting my head, and when I woke up
You were gone without a trace
I was shaking. I took out the rope
and fit it neatly around my neck

I hung myself. Maybe when my fever quells
All this would have been a hallucination.

I stepped off the chair
Maybe I was truly dead
But what I saw in front of my eyes
Told me otherwise
I saw a running river.

I saw a cottage surrounded
With exotic flowers
It was a dream come true
I was in paradise
Where I had wanted to be, with you.

But you were nowhere to be found.
I know that I am either dead or hallucinating.

This poem was originally published on 8 April 2016. 
As always, I would love hearing from you! Leave a comment telling me what you thought of me poem. 

Poem: Misunderstood

Sorry

Sorry for my harshness 

Because I am unable 

To express myself 

In any other way. 

You blame me 

You say I do not 

Light up my face 

With a blissful 

Smile. 

You never looked deep into me

Because you don't realise that 

I have pains. 

But so does everyone.

Because I also have 

My happinesses. 

Maybe 

Only my true friends 

See me. 

Truly. 

You hurt me

I had no one to help 

I went somewhere else 

Turned to someone else 

Got the comfort 

I wanted all along. 

This poem was originally published on 17 December 2015. 

I would love to hear your thoughts! Leave me a comment below. 

Poem: Regina

Regina

Large and frightening
it reminds me

of a space,
gold stretching
as far as the eye can see.

Tangled spiderwebs
that do not break.
Loneliness

not just a feeling,
yet a combination
of many.

A strong mind
lamenting
what has been done.

Destined
for blank space,
it always is.

It goes up

in flames,
which light the night.

A small space
from which
an epiphany grew.

Blank spaces ask
unanswered questions.
Ice cannot be cold

nor is it warm either.
While sourness and bitterness
cease to conflict,

an epiphany arises
from the black darkness.
While a tree

laments its lonely past,
a dark black space holds
potential.

Feel free to leave a comment telling me how you interpreted my poem or if anything stood out for you. I love knowing my readers thoughts! 
This poem was originally published in November 2015. 

Why I Am a Writer

There is so much that can be said about being a writer. The beauty of it is immense, and yet the pain of it, the pain of translating what is thought in one’s mind onto paper is also immense. But the best feeling of it all is finally looking at that paper, full of words, knowing you created a whole new world. As George Orwell stated: “When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.” That is the reason many of us write, and, specifically, the reason I write.

Sometimes, I see an injustice occurring, and I can’t help but be angered. Why? There are so many things happening in the world around me that I do not understand. Why must we trample over others to get to our own success? Why must we have the feelings of jealousy towards others? It is these “whys,” and my curiosity towards the world around me in general, that propel me to write. I write to express my thoughts and opinions on a subject. I write to create new worlds, new characters, people I’d love to meet in real life. I write to entertain myself, to create a utopia I wish was real.

I wish to be able to write the words that make someone’s day, the words that someone will say, “because of her, I didn’t give up.” I wish to educate the world about how everyone is different, yet we’re all still the same. I wish I could shout, throw out my words to all the oppressors to hear my voice, to hear my cry of “this is unfair.” I wish I could comfort all the oppressed with “everything will be okay.” I wish I could end all the world’s inequalities, because everyone who has written knows this to be true: “words are more powerful than bullets will ever be.”

If this inspired you or something stood out, feel free to contact me in the comments.