When I have died,
Will the people I cared about come watch me
Eyes closed, unbreathing
In my coffin
Will people come and watch me
In admiration of what I had achieved, the course of my life
Or will they cast their gaze down onto my pale face
And say scornfully of what a terrible person  I was,
And that they were glad I am no longer there?
Will people look at me pitifully
Pondering of a strange reason
As to why this beautiful human
Had to depart forever?
But after the funeral, what?
So what?
Will what they say matter?
Will their grievances be like sounds lost to the winds
Carrying them far away to other lands?
Will I be remembered by them,
So that when they’re having
A casual conversation
Over tea or coffee,
Or just happened to be passing by,
Maybe they’ll see the light grey dressing of the clouds
Who wore the same outfit to my funeral
And will get reminded of me?

But, no matter what, my death
Won’t be that significant.
Many people die everyday. So what if I die?
It is just a natural course of life,
Inescapable, inevitable
Why is it such a big matter?
In fact, let my passing be as natural
As brushing teeth in the morning.
Better get it done and over with,
So that everyone can move on and start with the day
So fresh a mouth that a breeze can blow into it
And carry the scent to faraway lands.

Will life still move on?

The striking contrast of the branches against the blue
so blue it's so bright  
just like how
people are the branches
and I am the blue.

I'd love to spread out over the vastness of space
be bright, bright
but the branches
scratch against the blue
so people are forced to close
their eyes and they cannot
see me, afterall,
in the end.

A rhythm, a beat
the rustle of the leaves
a hush, the bus
better run fast to catch up
the trees, the songs
you hear as they play on your ipod
forgot 'bout the world
reality kills
and only you can find solace
in the tub-tub-tub
of your footsteps as you walk home
and feel comfortable
a book in your hands,
never really feeling alone.

Stuck in a ditch
and crying for help
would be so embarrassing
because it is obvious
that all the eyes looking down
hold no interest
in lending a hand
so crying for help
would only show
how much of a lowlife
they make me
out to be.

after a tiring day,
I am here, typing away
on my TPC.
recalling the past events that happened
earlier today;
she looked at me
dead looked eyes,
not a happy smile was
formed on her face,
in fact, the little details
the slight curve downwards,
the distrust I saw in her eyes,
as she, I'm sure, wasn't pleased to see
and probably dislike boiled in her,
as her words shot through me
like a million metal particles
agonizingly deep
difficult and perhaps, impossible to remove.
And as I go around begging
to please just join a group of humans
all none of superior or inferior rank,
but all of them rejected me
and I felt like a dog.
not even human, and so humiliated
I wondered
what did I ever do
To  deserve  this?

What have I become?
A sad, pathetic loner
going around begging?
Is there no pride or dignity left inside
of this mind,
which only wants to
complete a school task?

Time and again,
I feel like a
dog
living under a bridge
tasting the bitter rain that trickles
down
and I feel so very
sick.

I hurt every time.
A little part of me is so fragile,
just like glass.
Whenever that glass breaks inside of me,
it pierces the tissues in me
and some are so long and sharp
they stick out of my skin
and I walk around like
A sad little person
but everyone sees me
and yet nobody cares.

My body melts into wax
Wax filling a coffin strangely shaped like me
A candle starts to burn at the tip
and yet again, I start to melt like a wax.