To the guy who called me ugly as I passed him in the street.
Thank you.

Thank you for proving my anxieties right,
Thank you for reminding me why I hate going out,
Thank you for pushing me 100m back in my 1000m race to self confidence,
Thank you for putting out the tiny spark I'd gained in my eye,
Thank you for reminding me that everyone lies,
Thank you for making me doubt the mirror all over again,
Thank you for quickly undoing all the hard work I've been putting in,
Thank you for being the only ******* comment I'll remember,

Thank you.
****.

we may not be the most obvious expressionists,
for we keep our special pen and papers,
folders,
diaries hidden from the world,
and once we enter our secret world,
that's when we fully open up to our paper,
and the  pen becomes a reflection of our hearts,
the thoughts impregnating our minds,
falls like waterfalls onto our paper,
our pen becomes a existing object in our lives,
we create him as our best friend,
lover,
as he writes down all our desires,
secrets,
feelings we hide in our hearts, to afraid to tell anyone what goes on in our head.

how do you sleep at night knowing you broke me?
teach me.
how do you stay high without being brought down by the heavy emptiness that weighs down?
teach me.
how do you swallow the sweet and claims it's the most bitter fruit you've tasted?
teach me.
because i see you moving on so fast,
i get stuck.
dumbfounded.
if what we had,
meant something to you,
how could you turn,
our love to hate?
teach me.
so i won't have to drag you down no more,
with pathetic cries and pleads,
teach me dear.
teach me how,
you can pretend.
because i've had many masks,
but this,
bled through them all.

(FAH)