Blank pages bind together creates a promise to fulfill an empty life,
Black calligraphic handwriting eases down onto the pages of empty sorrow,
Red ink of devastation creates a dramatic twist in a once flat, lifeless soul,
Pink flowers, glitters and hearts fills the days of love the soul never had before,
A life was so unfamiliar, yet so smoothly written down on pieces of scattered paper,
Again, was put together to create new chapters of life,
Creates a new story, full of life, full of zest.
Oh, how simple a book of fiction can be written,
Oh, how hard for us to mold a storyline for our own chronicle.
The writer's block, the misuse of words, the typographical errors.
The pause of hesitation, the exaggeration of drama, the mistakes that were made.
How similar the processes of a book and of our life,
yet the huge difference is how we choose to write it, to portray it.
The possibilities of our lives becoming a fiction, a chic-literature, romance, science fiction are huge.
But yet we do not know what kind of story we are living now, and what kind of storyline awaits us.
I am blinded by words everyday, and I am secretly hoping for a miracle to happen as I walk through the words of my biographical novel. A magical tragedy that brings me right to a happy ending, without going through any rough patches, or pauses of hesitation.
Some of you might not understand what I'm trying to say, but I sincerely say here, I am a mere human being with feelings, thoughts and doubts. So, these are just my humble thoughts.
Black calligraphic handwriting eases down onto the pages of empty sorrow,
Red ink of devastation creates a dramatic twist in a once flat, lifeless soul,
Pink flowers, glitters and hearts fills the days of love the soul never had before,
A life was so unfamiliar, yet so smoothly written down on pieces of scattered paper,
Again, was put together to create new chapters of life,
Creates a new story, full of life, full of zest.
Oh, how simple a book of fiction can be written,
Oh, how hard for us to mold a storyline for our own chronicle.
The writer's block, the misuse of words, the typographical errors.
The pause of hesitation, the exaggeration of drama, the mistakes that were made.
How similar the processes of a book and of our life,
yet the huge difference is how we choose to write it, to portray it.
The possibilities of our lives becoming a fiction, a chic-literature, romance, science fiction are huge.
But yet we do not know what kind of story we are living now, and what kind of storyline awaits us.
I am blinded by words everyday, and I am secretly hoping for a miracle to happen as I walk through the words of my biographical novel. A magical tragedy that brings me right to a happy ending, without going through any rough patches, or pauses of hesitation.
Some of you might not understand what I'm trying to say, but I sincerely say here, I am a mere human being with feelings, thoughts and doubts. So, these are just my humble thoughts.
3 comments:
pernah dengar tak such a thing as typographical error?
taula budak BEN. tak perlu tulis terang2an? banyak kot typo. normal la, blog.
don't take it too seriously okay.
apa yang kau cakap ni hanna? aku tak paham bahasa orang putih.. haha!
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