You may not know but how she had to bear the pain for 9 months with no complains; carrying us in her womb.
You may not know but how she watched us grow old, making sure we are well fed and healthy.
You may not know but behind closed doors, she bears tired eyes and sore bones, yet she never complains.
You may not know but she is proud even when we aren't at our best; she knows we've tried hard.
You may not know but she is always looking after us, even when we no longer live in the same household.
You may not know but she loves us, even when she is at a better place.
Happy Mother's Day.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
I'm sorry I don't paint the canvas
of our dialogues because
what is left between us are of
bittersweet memories.
And I can't be there anymore
to hold onto what is left of broken pieces
because you can't even apologize to broken plates
once you've thrown them to the wall.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
i
you could be like the vast ocean,
unreachable and would stretch from east to west,
yet every time I find myself on the edge of the plank,
I se beauty within the marvels of mysteries of you.
ii.
maybe like the waves,
we could only hope to meet continuously,
but when touch is not all,
i could only miss the bubble you form.
iii.
maybe i could miss you,
like little mermaid wishes to meet the land,
and that the land and sea could never meet.
iv.
and if this love isn’t all,
i would forever be missing you,
and loving you,
till the deepest part of the ocean.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
It's insane that we could keep up,
to the noises around us,
screaming,
telling us off,
reprimanding us in loud tones.
I confined myself in a room,
only almost absolute silence
and the blowing of the fan heard,
never would I want,
to give up this tranquility.
It's too noisy outside,
even whispers could be shouts and screams,
I feel the world spinning,
my breath,
everything is so suffocating.
Words becomes aloud,
drowning in deep thoughts of others,
almost feeling abstract to stabbing,
depression kicks in,
and I'm not the same.
Please stop the voices,
the loud calls of unwanted words,
the clarity of speech.
It hurts.
It hurts a lot.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
We draw a line,
to which we fully accept,
that our future will be scary.
We, the people of tomorrow,
are no longer afraid,
of images of war-bounded victims,
or even ****** scenes of murders and rapes,
as they are far too negatively common.
Technology would come first before our very own lives,
forgetting the true meaning of life,
friendship and relationship bounded without faces and proper communication of spoken words.
Money would be everything,
a source of good and evil,
we would either bath ourself in luxuries,
or live like ants being stomped upon.
Families would have communication breakdown,
as we face the screen of our gadgets,
never seemingly to leave it even for a moment.
The countries' economy bounded to the damp,
as we slowly run out of natural resources,
yet we never seem to care,
living still as if this crisis is a passing stone.
Our earth,
mother nature dies,
as chemical and radioactive takes over,
we all falter the line of sickness,
and depending on machines than herbs.
What would be of a world without care?
A world of climbing trees and running around the park is gone.
Empty lands now become tall skyscrapers or a high-end shopping complex,
playgrounds are now found on our iPads.
Never will the future generation experienced the joy we all grew up to as a child.
No more singing in the fields with our guitars,
No more running freely at open area.
No more water games and fun ***** activities to which our parents would scold us when we play.
We would all hold our heads up high,
thinking we're superior.
When in reality,
we are all coming to an end.
The future is scary.
And we would watch it pass us as if nothing much has changed.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
We were both very close,
like two peas in a pod.
Me and you against the world.
Why have we drifted?
We used to go out on sundays,
movie was our weekend thing,
and now those times are gone.
Why have we drifted?
You said you were doing all these for me,
so I can have a better future,
then you're asking me when will I leave home.
Why have we drifted?
And now you're out with some other girl,
coming home late,
is there no more family in us?
Why have we drifted?
I used to want to ask for hugs,
and maybe you were my shoulder to lean on,
now I don't even want to talk to anyone.
Why have we drifted?
You were my anchor,
my support,
and now all I ever want is to die.
Why have we drifted?
I am no watch dog,
waiting for you to come back.
I am sick of all of this.
Why have we drifted?
Where are you when I needed you most?
I was your little girl,
and you my hero.
Why have we drifted?
We have we drifted,
and we will just keep drifting
and drifting...
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
It was all dark before I met you,
and darkness elope me,
and I find myself sinking further,
and further into the abyss where no life would be.
And suddenly,
my world light up like how you are the Sun of which consumes me entirely,
and of the Rain,
as you came in almost immediately.
I would used to think that I have storms raging in me,
a mass of ultimate destruction,
but you clear them away,
and grew flowers in me which you would never pluck even if they are pretty.
I would find myself in the comfort of bittersweet drinks which infuriate my mind,
making me dizzy.
But now, I find myself in your comfort,
you evading my lungs with your cigarette-scented breath,
leaving me hazy.
At 3AM before, insanity would kick in and my demons would rise,
leaving me to suffer in delusions and fear eating me alive,
At 3AM now, I dream of technicolor and your arms wrapped around mine,
reassuringly as you whisper words that cuts my breath.
My inbox mail would usually be empty,
and to be filled up with advertisement and radical nonsense.
It is now filled with messages and poems from you,
of which that I left them be ever since I met you.
Death would often spark a sinful thought,
that the nerves of my brain would always response.
But now ever since you told me you want to live a lifetime with me,
I, too, wish to live a possible lifetime with you.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
They say we fanthom our thoughts to constellations,
but in truth,
my thoughts are fanthom to storms.
They say we have flowers in us,
but honestly,
I only have weeds growing in me.
They say we picture death in darkness
but all in all,
I picture myself falling into absolutely nothing when it's all dark.
They say our inner demons eat us alive,
but has anyone ever thought,
that it is ourself who surrender to it.
They say we love writing poems for it is our unwritten thoughts,
but the truth is,
we are all just too afraid of the surreality that our thoughts may never be accepted if we speak of it aloud.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
We would all have come to a point,
where we are just so done putting on masks,
to conceal of whom we are,
what we feel.
And we go on living our lives,
as if nothing much had happen,
that the scars in hands doesn't sting,
that the room is darker than the immortal night.
Questions not asked,
and answers never to be revealed,
uncertainty is definitely thick in the air,
and so albeit the tension.
But how do feelings overcome insecurities of the heart?
How do we live on to everyday's life as no roller coaster ride has happened?
To feel on the verge of a thin rope,
feeling all at once that the rope may snap.
*Why do I still put on a mask,
and tell myself lies?*
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
I am of broken wings,
beaten up to no compassion.
I am of cracked windows,
cracked to pieces in vanity.
I am of dying flowers,
invaded of my liveliness.
I am of a thread,
snapping when I'm cut off.
I am of a porcelain doll,
abandoned and only to haunt the
living with my shattered face.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC