one-of-the-tortured-poets

How cruel October has been to us. Gray skies, rainy days, tear soaked eyes, even mom had to pass.

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Oct 27, 2024

Oct 27, 2024 at 12:21 AM UTC

How cruel October has been to us. Gray skies, rainy days, tear soaked eyes, even mom had to pass.

Perhaps because there is a tale to tell about thoughts I chased. One after another, and after one that's crushed, lost and gone to wind. Perhaps to breathe, to laugh, and to cry Or perhaps to be found.

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May 27, 2024

May 27, 2024 at 11:12 AM UTC

Why Do I Write

Perhaps because there is a tale to tell about thoughts I chased. One after another, and after one that's crushed, lost and gone to wind. Perhaps to breathe, to laugh, and to cry Or perhaps to be found.

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Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day, One that makes the readers Remember the tortured poets That lies in some forgotten corners Laced with delicate cob webs Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day, One that whispers warm embraces to some hearts frozen somewhere Chilling.

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Apr 24, 2024

Apr 24, 2024 at 4:03 AM UTC

One Day...

Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day, One that makes the readers Remember the tortured poets That lies in some forgotten corners Laced with delicate cob webs Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day, One that whispers warm embraces to some hearts frozen somewhere Chilling.

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If there is one thing that I hated, It would be waiting. Though I know It could take endless, I find myself dwelling in consolation of taking a step, then a leap of faith.

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Dec 16, 2023

Dec 16, 2023 at 9:09 PM UTC

Waiting

If there is one thing that I hated, It would be waiting. Though I know It could take endless, I find myself dwelling in consolation of taking a step, then a leap of faith.

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i dont know why i'm always lied to. when you came, with pure intentions you said and said the same when you left because you needed to be honest.

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Dec 10, 2023

Dec 10, 2023 at 8:48 PM UTC

when you needed to be honest

i dont know why i'm always lied to. when you came, with pure intentions you said and said the same when you left because you needed to be honest.

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If relationship were like baking We are flour Just like how it is sifted Lumps and bits are recognized in the Middle of sifting or the end Our only difference is that We are both Ball of lumps in the beginning Scratching, rubbing, bumping Against each other Trying to figure out How to get through The same sieve, To see how much impurities Of ourselves we need to get rid And how much of us From scratch we can save.

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Dec 14, 2020

Dec 14, 2020 at 1:55 AM UTC

Baking Thoughts

If relationship were like baking We are flour Just like how it is sifted Lumps and bits are recognized in the Middle of sifting or the end Our only difference is that We are both Ball of lumps in the beginning Scratching, rubbing, bumping Against each other Trying to figure out How to get through The same sieve, To see how much impurities Of ourselves we need to get rid And how much of us From scratch we can save.

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"Loss" is a thing with stingers That stings the soul And wails the tunes in silence- And never goes away- At all. "Time" is its best companion For some other time, the aches are much much more To make you bend and curl. And there are times, life's appetite is dull and slouchy But most likely you'll get up and carry on...

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Sep 6, 2020

Sep 6, 2020 at 1:45 AM UTC

Loss

"Loss" is a thing with stingers That stings the soul And wails the tunes in silence- And never goes away- At all. "Time" is its best companion For some other time, the aches are much much more To make you bend and curl. And there are times, life's appetite is dull and slouchy But most likely you'll get up and carry on...

13

Cheer up now, being too little in the eyes of people is nothing compared to what your thumb can do, Always remember that you can make a moon disappear at the back of your thumb in just a wink of an eye. So when you feel that you're of less importance, that's nothing to be really scared of. There are few things little things that we don't often see its worth but cause unimaginable destruction, Just like how a tiny dew drop and a distant sun ray from the sun can burn a whole forest.

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Sep 5, 2020

Sep 5, 2020 at 10:21 PM UTC

You're Not Too Little to Matter

Cheer up now, being too little in the eyes of people is nothing compared to what your thumb can do, Always remember that you can make a moon disappear at the back of your thumb in just a wink of an eye. So when you feel that you're of less importance, that's nothing to be really scared of. There are few things little things that we don't often see its worth but cause unimaginable destruction, Just like how a tiny dew drop and a distant sun ray from the sun can burn a whole forest.

5

When you came to me, You swept me off my feet like what hurricanes do, the one that keeps you afloat with all that mixtures of excitements, feelings and kept you falling. Eventually, you were a maelstrom, out of nowhere you stormed in to take away a home I mended and kept at bay inside my chest cages. Yes, you are the form of every bits that takes away, Yes you were, when you left.

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Aug 19, 2020

Aug 19, 2020 at 7:36 PM UTC

You Were a Storm

When you came to me, You swept me off my feet like what hurricanes do, the one that keeps you afloat with all that mixtures of excitements, feelings and kept you falling. Eventually, you were a maelstrom, out of nowhere you stormed in to take away a home I mended and kept at bay inside my chest cages. Yes, you are the form of every bits that takes away, Yes you were, when you left.

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I sometimes miss this girl who enjoys sitting in cafès with her emptied cup. She who finds grace in the presence of waiting And believes in happy ending. I sometimes miss this girl who's so good at self consolation. She who patronises self rule more than any other, Someone who's still whole. Now cafès reminds me not with coffee fragrant promises But of bitter tanged memories While sitting becomes restless waits I have come to miss the girl I was before you- I still long of me a little.

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Aug 16, 2020

Aug 16, 2020 at 8:55 AM UTC

The Girl I Miss

I sometimes miss this girl who enjoys sitting in cafès with her emptied cup. She who finds grace in the presence of waiting And believes in happy ending. I sometimes miss this girl who's so good at self consolation. She who patronises self rule more than any other, Someone who's still whole. Now cafès reminds me not with coffee fragrant promises But of bitter tanged memories While sitting becomes restless waits I have come to miss the girl I was before you- I still long of me a little.

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