The Hidden Poet

"𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘴"

I had a sleep paralysis on new year's eve 

I can't move my head and hands—I was trying to reach you. 

 In my dream we were just a wall apart from each other 

I thought I will finally hug you—I badly need it. 

 But suddenly there's a beast that pulled me 

I cannot moved 'cause I'm scared of that the beast has no face—Why it hasn't? 

 In the midst of fighting the fear and running along from the sleep paralysis 

Anxieties and the questions of absurdities flash back—maybe a year end throw back. 

 As I finally woke up and resist from horridness 

Your name is the first word my mind spoke to me—my poetry. 

 It's been a long time of having no sleep paralysis untill then 

I'm still thinking of what causes my sleep paralysis—something to blame.

 Is it the whiskey I drunk in the afternoon? 

May be the supper I had before I slept—or at least some logical reason. 

 I regret the days I had skipped my science classes in the afternoon 

I should not guessing causes and effects of every situation but gathering hypothesis—Yes, I can still recall the scientific method. 

 But one thing is for sure I learnt from that dream 

Is that I ever want to see you and touch you more than I want my Christmas bonus—which I didn't have. 

 And if it is science to explain my sleep paralysis 

Should I blame my untold poems for causing it? 

It only portrays that you—my poetry—are like the morning breeze.