Was all this was

"I wish I could write as good as I used to"
she said one night
....

Or maybe it was all a lie...
Something she had imagined..
A product of her mind,
a perception she was having,
an overrated feeling of pride?....

As if a writer,
as if she could ever become that.
Aware of the facts...
she glanced at the pile of papers.
they smiled back,
mocking her efforts
to become one..
Writer.. Someone.. Anyone..
unfulfilled childish dreams...
was all this was.

Dare call herself a writer...
How sad..
Not even a fraction
of a blurred reflection
to a sentence of their
most humble masterpiece...
was all this was.

Those flawless masters
that had perfected every line...
whose letters in divine order collided
Into formations of expression
orchestrated behind
the curtains of their mind...
the sounds of meaning
reaching their destination
numerous, millions of times...
Generation after generation
into the hearts of humankind.

So...how dare she mention
her existence..
How dare she say she writes!

No place for comparison
to their immortal legacy and might..
to those with the vocabulary, vision,
adjectives and rhymes...
As if English was her native,
as if she had talent to find
the right word or expression
to portray an emotion,
that her mental function
failed to categorize..

Then she realized..

Maybe my words are useless,
to be heard only by the wind..
Maybe this is the realization...
Perhaps I'm just a dream..
Perhaps I never was..
Perhaps nothing is...

********************************************

Smoke and ash
accompanied the darkness
Pieces of a puzzle
now left to burn,
empty meaningless letters
on a page of a notebook
forever to be left untouched..

Just a dream...
within a hallucination,
within inception...
of another dimension,
Just an illusion of a bipolarized mind.
Story with anonymous writer,
whose audience was the midnight sky.

********************************************

She woke up next morning,
aching from a papercut,
She looked at the torn pages,
and the empty notebook,
whose black covers
where now open...
As if somehow proud
of its first content..
The first page
was no longer empty,
but colored with her blood..

*******************************************