i have an identity that i keep hidden;
a secret life
that nobody suspects.
at dawn,
when the owls are sleeping,
and even the moon is dozing,
i'm awake, stiff on my bed,
eyes unwilling to rest.
my secret identity is a bully.
i yell,
you're a disappointment
you're numb
you don't deserve this
are you ever thankful for anything?
the victim shys away and covers her ears;
she doesn't want to deal with this tonight.
she cradles into a ball,
hugging her flaws tight.
but i whip her until tears of red form on her back,
push her until she falls.
i whisper into her ear,
YOU'RE WORTHLESS,
and she shows no response.
when the sky breaks with sunlight,
i stand in front of the mirror
observing my battle wounds from the night.
my shattered bones will heal,
the tears in my heart will mend,
and the scars on my back – they will disappear.
but the bully comes back every time,
haunting me with her relentless whispers.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 2:12 AM UTC
The next thing I knew
There was the salt of my own tears
It was bitter on my tongue
It stung
Like the words
It's so cold,
It's so cold
Memories gradually rush in
In the place the overwhelming feelings
As if in a trance
I begin to recall them
One by one
And tears trickled down my wet cheeks
Again
When I realized that he was my world
And that I would never have him the way that I did before
Because when I look at you
All the others seems to drain of any colour
Everything seems so translucent around you
And I realised
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
she cradled her heart
on the mattress of lies,
and the frames of guilt.
the blanket of ignorance
failed to give her warmth.
her scars,
bruises,
and the dried blood
in the arms of her cold body-
she cradled the hurt,
with slow tears down her cheeks.
wishing to forget
every breath of her existence
her hair ceased to hold her lies,
and her eyes didn't hide her green anymore.
she stared at her reflection,
her scars and bruises
on the very thing that kept her alive
the pain,
so intricately woven
with the purple blood
and the dark veins
and the alive muscle
that pumped for every breath of her existence-
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
A delicate soul;
A rambling mind-
Never stopping to rest,
As she ponders on
The grey sky
makes the clouds seem blue
They reflect the silver pool,
make it silver among the blue
Her thoughts rush in like a waterfall
Resilience at its best,
but now they pool
at my feet
into a silver pond
sitting
in the cold moonlight
chilled with the summer breeze
Birds come and go,
they sing a sweet melody
But they will always leave
amidst the sun
Now the thoughts are a silver pool
resting in the open;
A quiet retreat,
A wordless surrender.
A mindful resistance
against resilience
An acceptance of the thoughts,
A beautiful isolation
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
the purest amidst the lies,
the truth among the dark.
shaking behind the screens
smiling out of fear
cold
so, cold
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC
reaching out to brush away
a single thread of gold from her face,
his smile stopped the winds to hear his smile sing
her hair, threaded with gold.
she was broken as the sky below,
but threaded with hope-
resurrected from the grave of her dreams.
dancing with the ghosts,
in the flowering white dress,
glints of guilt framing her thoughts
broken, but with desperation
for a new inauguration
with a radical definition
to her adoration
rekindle the candle
let the rage be cooled
into a fiery calmness
he stopped to hold her delicate soul,
put it in a cast until it mends as a whole
broken, but for the better
to be made renew
reconstruction,
destroy with a purpose
destroy the askew
to squeeze out the last adieu
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
the old man creaked along the sidewalk,
his cane hobbling alongside his hobbling legs.
a little boy flew to him, and chirped:
my! how lovely this day is! only if my score was as lovely as today.
the old man turned slowly, eyeing him, and with his Toad of the voice,
he croaked:
oh, little boy, do not be fooled by the numbers on your paper!
for it isn't about the speed,
the perfection,
nor the quantity;
it's not about how fast you can read a book,
or how many you have read.
if one does not understand and reflect on the story,
nothing has been gained.
the little boy tap-tap-tapped his impatient foot,
and blurted:
i know i'm not be the sharpest in the shed,
but i've never reflected on a story.
to define is to limit, the old man sang.
do not define yourself, dear one;
do not limit yourself.
how is the sky the limit when there are footprints on the moon?
the boy exclaimed:
oh! i would sure like to go to the moon!
how delightful!
the old man smiled a weathered smile,
as if it had been battered in a storm-
and he spoke gently.
i can sure see you on the moon, little boy.
do not limit yourself to the mere temporary goods in this parallel reality.
live each day without hesitation and regret,
for time is only the distance
between life and death.
make time the best you've ever had.
and now the boy,
with his bright beak-
he shone a brilliant smile.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
she stepped into the room,
drunk with her dreams,
her imagination filling
the brim of her possibilities.
she looked around with hope,
with all the choices swimming in her mind.
but-
where were the unicorns?
mermaids?
happiness?
disappointed, she sank down.
and there will be a time where she will fall,
in loss of hope,
in loss of all;
but she shall be victorious in the end
and although the room
was not her dream,
she allowed herself
to be carried away
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
i used to hate this place when i was young
i look back at my hometown with guilt
so many memories,
good and back
and i'm not sure if i want to go back
anymore
i used to cry while i slept
and woke up feeling like i was drowning
now i sing happiness as i go
i don't look back at my fears anymore
keep your head up
let the slightest of your smile show
because that is enough for me
to keep going
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
my dress flies with the song
the wind whispers in my ear
reaching to my bones,
chilling my spine
my hair covers my eyes
as if to protect me from seeing the future
an unspeakable song plays in my head,
forever on rewind
you have to believe me,
you used to whisper in my ear
now I'm the one singing
to put faith in me,
I hope everything will work out okay
please don't ask me what I'm doing,
I don't know either
but you have to believe me
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC