tHE mIRROR


I’m not a great writer but I love writing, its something that means freedom to my soul, myself and my mind. Its what make a better person of me in front of myself. Its what get my inside out. Its what my voice can’t say. Its what my heart cry for. Its my dream in my hands. That’s a part of what writing means to me. Once before my father died he told me behind every paper and every pen, every word and every book, their is a mind and a heart. When I cry when I smile when I’m happy when I’m sad when I’m thinking when I’m working I take my pen and write and write and write…. But once after my fathers death the world dissolved around me and suddenly everything changed to non-meaning to me even writing, I still write but all without a real me in it, without the heart and mind. And once again life give me a chance by giving me him to love, but it seems like I start loving my pain more than myself, instead of going forward I go back, until I reached the worst and I fall. I found myself in a bad mirror whatever I try to do to see myself in it, it turns to more ugly picture of me until it is black so you can’t see your self any more then you start feeling pain. And god, you can die of the pain without even knowing ……………………..> to be continued

Advertisements

2 responses to “tHE mIRROR

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s