not by herbert read

I am so close to the sun until I am blinded by its divine. All I can see is the high of darkness, felt so far away from everything, as if I’m standing in the deep of feet. It burns me madly and melts every single heart of dreams from my old mind. Mercilessly changed it into ashes.

A fairy tale from the land of my childhood was trash. My sweet young love was the only string but a mess. Is it just me, or does even a rainy day feel so mysteriously sad? Where is the fragrance of petrichor, and why is it smell like the dead flowers? Have I gone mad?

I was like a Queen with thousand continents in my rules as a ruler crowned by expectation and imagination. On the day of my coronation, claps of pressure collapsed, surrounded my cloak. It was wet by unwritten words from the red thread of their mouth. I am the Queen, they said, I must not ruin this civilization. I must not, or else my head will be sleeping beneath the guillotine.

Simply no time for me to die.

It’s living, or dying.