I thought I’m free as bird,
but I’m barely have a wings.
I thought I learnt to fly,
but I’m set in a cage awhile ago.
I thought I am free wind,
but things lead me to be.
I thought it was just tree,
but it’s actually is me.
Something about freedom.
We chase whole life to achieve.
Try stop once around…
To see things as it is.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 11:42 AM UTC
How long you think about life?
When everything is just blink of eyes.
You wake and see things decaying.
What will be matter if it just keeps losing?
You stand at the shore.
Wonder how things becoming.
You asking “why? why? why?”
While the waves never echoing.
We stand at a point of life.
We see and view things upside down.
The answer is there.
But it well beneath as we buried there.
We look up to the sky of blue.
Search a sign for hope.
But only the clouds and rain answering.
Did we get the response we expect?
I become the ronin of my words.
I sent out my work and never heard.
I pretty much alike to the title.
I named myself a hider.
How could a hider be hiding?
If he always seeking.
How could a seeker be seeking?
If he hides within.
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 12:16 PM UTC
When you free as wind can be,
you could be the shape of everything.
When the invisible man stands there,
your whisper be the shape of him.
When you free as wind should be,
you are not bound by anything.
When you be the whisper within,
the falling leaves be your achieved.
When you free as wind,
you taste the taste of freedom of being free,
When you free,
you realise you just the wind.
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 2:39 AM UTC
I used to dream,
how my life could be,
with you existing,
and dreaming the story,
between you and me.
I used to dream,
that you'll talk to me,
or even noticing me,
and now I see,
it will never happening.
I used to dream,
how wonderful it could be,
but our story proves to me,
we were not 10 pages enough,
to make a chapter in this story.
I used to dream,
but you awake me,
and I see the reality,
you were never the 'yellow umbrella' to me,
but the 'blue french horn' I forced to be.
So now I'll be waiting,
maybe at the train station,
waiting my 'T.M',
and hopefully,
it will be it.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 11:55 AM UTC
We took the photo,
a day before my graduation.
We were smiling,
and hiding the well-known sadness.
"3... 2... 1"
The photographer clicked the button.
And now we all waited to be in the frame.
Few weeks past, few months go.
Now we hanged the photo onto the wall.
You were there with us just frame within frame.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 6:05 AM UTC
I don’t how can I ever tell,
how my tomorrow held.
But now I’m awake in this Tomorrowland,
and see my dream is one reality away.
How could I dream again?
If I end up in nightmare when I’m wake.
I fear that I’m the slave of my own choices,
but I’m chained with the wings couldn’t fly again.
I see again,
and tell my fate.
They were never mine to begin with,
what even the hell I’m held against…
Jan 5
Jan 5, 2026 at 9:41 AM UTC
Why does the petal broken?
Because the flower never whole.
When the petal falls,
the leaf was yellow,
and the flower broke.
A shatter glass of mirror,
reflect the broken whole,
with the petal never belong.
The beauty was broken,
the petal’s fall as she weeps,
the garden lost it’s soul.
There she stood it’s ground,
as the lone broken flower’s petal.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 2:46 PM UTC
It was a big day,
I didn’t sleep from what I’m expect,
but then at the end,
she was not there.
I think I finally can,
to mark ‘the end’,
and letting go between us,
as she was not there.
I sharpened my look,
to surprise myself,
and I imagine her beauty,
but she was not there.
I wait for a year go,
and realise it’s ended a year back,
but now I really see it,
when she was not there.
I always scared,
for her absent’s tomorrow,
but now I regret for her today’s shadow,
because she was not there.
I think I want to say:
“Happy graduation day, Emily!
Even you not there today.”
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
I build my life on 'maybe',
now I can't go back to reality.
Maybe I am better,
but now I think not.
Maybe she noticed me,
but I don't think it ever happening.
I run around in this circle,
I spelled out the word with my feet,
the word 'maybe' became strange to me,
and I think I live in it.
I live and spend my life in 'maybe',
now I don't think anything is real to me.
This is a strange life on the word based by 'Maybe'.
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 12:43 PM UTC