silent and reserved
a learnt behaviour

to speak into a void,
would be more fruitful than another soul.

I hold my breath
anticipating-

waiting to be asked something
anything.

my voice, opinions, feelings
hold no value

all I ask of you is to
                       listen.
listen to me

Since I was young I always knew I was different

labelled as 'special'
a 'difficult' child

misunderstood.
is what I am

But I take pride in being 'special' as they say
its what makes me...
me

being unique is what bring me joy.

escapism from the mundane.

Is it selfish to believe in karma?

to do good and receive good
to do bad and receive bad

is the good out of your heart?
or just so you feel good

what if the bad is accidental?
to face repercussion from a simple mistake

a principle to be explored
or exploited.

I have a thing in my head
bickering and beckoning me to be perfect.

every action and thought and phrase and exertion and sequence-
must be perfect.

is it normal to be to be this imperfect?

When it comes to others
imperfection is okay.

because nobody is perfect
                                              I tell myself

To be self-critical is human
its a tentative nature
                                              I tell myself

a liar is what I am.
a vessel of delusions.

my biggest fear is you seeing me
the way i see myself—
the cracks beneath the surface,
the doubts i file away

i hide my flaws in shadows deep,
but what if you should find
the fractured mirror that i see
when i look inside my mind?

3 months on.

Lingering in my mind.
you weaved your web.
bit every itch of my brain
poison flowing, toxins circulating

Even though you left
your web still remains
hard to clear your silky web

                         Im finding myself again
without you