I am sorry
I was born as a human,
Humans are supposed to possess great vigor.
I am ashamed of myself
I induced chaos in the harmonious system,
Humans are supposed to yield balance.
I apologize
I disguised myself with a strata of untrue commotions,
Humans are supposed to show the originality.
I am guilty of my past deeds
I didn't do anything to amend those actions,
Humans are supposed to owe to their mistakes.
Yet another question arises,
Am I a disgrace to humanity?
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
I am ashamed
At how broken i am.
I apologize
For the amount of stress
I may cause in the midst of your
Efforts of trying to keep me held together.
I apologize
that i continue to fall apart
Before your glue has time to dry.
I apologize
That every time you pick a piece of me up,
Yet another breaks.
I am trying.
You are fixing me slower than i am breaking,
And i am ashamed.
Thank you.
Thank you for not giving up
On a broken piece of nothing.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 2:23 PM UTC
Which era is this?
Where love eminences to suffer,
Where unexpected arrival reeks fear.
Afar destination still awaits our bliss.
Which era is this?
Where nature rampage over and over,
Where Red Dahlias disguise as beautiful aster,
Afar destination still awaits our bliss.
Which era is this?
Where burning tears of sky leisurely cry terror,
Where the last phrase of life exclaims horror.
Afar destination still awaits our bliss.
Behind our backs the door slowly closes
And In front a new one appears to venture
New era awaits our torture
And miles and miles are yet to cover.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 2:21 PM UTC
you burn me.
and it isn’t anyone’s
fault but mine.
i gave you the match
in the first place.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
My heart need a sense of closure from:
The unresolved mysteries that past has thrown upon me;
The cast of illusion which is prevailing now;
The uncertainties that I'm going to stumble upon in near futurity;
My heart then can peacefully rest into pleasant chimes.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 6:38 AM UTC
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic
i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents
you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door
sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor
i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips
i practice things i'll never say to you
i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl swingset misses children
rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach
for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray
this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep
i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes
i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one
in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume
i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice
if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"
i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem
the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****
we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you
nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps
sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 1:34 PM UTC
It is magical
when the nature creates the world
So perfectly imperfect
That I, a misfit, can fit right in
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 11:46 PM UTC
Are we trapped in a vicious circle?
Are we getting drenched in the gloomy abyss?
Are we really drifting away from the paradigm?
Is Nature giving us the last warning shot?
Let time decide the fate!!
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC