• My mind is a mournful secret garden where no one can enter and from where I cannot escape.
The midnight blue sky is illuminated by no stars. Only the moon sometimes lighten my path through the deep darkness.
The navy blue clouds, strong and threatening often pour a tearful rain all over my world.
The air is filled with a suffocating atmosphere, an environment conducive to the growth of my dementia.
Roses are made with velvet. They are of a profound black, of a deep purple and of a bleeding red.
They seem attractive and yet immense thorns protect them from being touched.
• Not far from my rose garden, there is my lake.
It is limpid but when I look at my reflection into its mirror, I cannot help but shiver at the sight of its obscure abyss on the other side.
It is the lake of my sorrows. A water I cannot drink or bathe in for fear I might be swallowed into a nothingness where forever I will be lost.
• There are days when I climb the mountains and remain sitting on a rock for hours, contemplating the horizon.
It is a place where lies my future but which I am scared of exploring and stepping inside.
So I just keep on thinking of what might happen, thinking, thinking until everything in my head keep swirling, nagging me…
And I end up sleeping because what I live inside my mind… is tiring.
© Fateema Abdallah