Fiction

 by Fuziah Ismail

I ache the beating of my mind
telling myself that I miss you
each and every morning I wake up
listening to the pouring of my heart
telling myself that I need you
each and everyday of my life.

Why are these just a fiction
You are just like a hero that I wish to have
in a comic book
which I have read when I was a young girl
always wishing for my superhero to come
to my rescue

Why does the wind that blows to me
tells me nothing but chills to my bones
and the strom that comes by
just smash-up itself without any meaning

Why can't my fiction
fabricate itself to reality
and move itself to my heart
and make me happy

I guess you're just my superhero in a comic book
that allow yourself to leave
and fade away all the time
I wish you are real
and not just a fiction
that is playing in my mind