By the 18th of October around 3 A.M of year 1995, a child was born.
He may not look as good as anyone or as pleasing as anyone but for his family, he is an angel.
Time flies so quickly, and the boy grows differently from everyone.
He didn't bother to consider any doubt of being different to everyone.
He's just like a normal kid, playful as every child in the neighborhood.
But as he grows further, thoughts came into his mind and enough to make a doubt.
And he started asking himself, "why do I look like this?", "what is wrong with me?".
His doubts consumed his playful mind turned it into a lone, doubtful, and twisted mind.
But you'd never see that on his eyes, nor to his smile, for he learned how to keep this burden.
He experienced many things as he grows. But good or bad, he turned it to a lesson.
From being playful and careless, he became silent, observant and unpeaceful.
He tried to show his true self as he tried to get his circle bigger but his burden grows. Keeping him away from everyone.
Because of his thoughts, doubts came in. It makes him unstable.
Now he never cares if they'll accept him or not and never tried to pleased people.
And now he was happier when he's alone rather than to be with people and their lies.
For now he learned that "Life's a survival".
The more you tried to get many friends, the more potential enemy you'll have.
"Do not let everyone knows everything about you" for they can use it against you.
"Always keep your circle small" for it is only for your true friends.
Happy 22nd year of existence.

Truly Yours,
Yourself

I stand in familiar soil,
dry with ambition
left untouched,
and promises
left in the sun,
but never planted.

It’s not that I’m happy,
I’m tired.
I’ve always been.
The skin of my hands
cracks
under the weight
of a wheelbarrow
used to move the words
that have shriveled,
gone stale.

But still,
I plant
and I dig,
and I work the land,
planting the seeds
of my future
and narratives
promising myself
that soon
the flowers
will bloom.

Her smile
Sends
Shockwaves
Through my body
Slowly
Ever so slowly
Pressing
Her bright red lips
Onto mine
Then
I wait
For the aftershock
Of her emerald green eyes
Lighting up
My night sky

Ever been happy so much,
You cried?

Ever been sad so much,
You laughed?

Yeah,
I love so much that I hate
I hate, so I must love
I'm a living mess
Who am I, wandering this place?

And know that I mean what I say,
I say what I know
But I know that not knowing anything
Is what I know the best.

A mess, tangled in wires
Of unsorteable emotions and
Unrecognized behaviours
Unknown thoughts,
Uncommon, just another head in the clouds.
Who are you to change this world?

A living contradiction.

To be or not to be?
To live, or not to live?
I know the unknowable thoughts

Because everyone knows what they do not know.
Everyone has their reason to live,
Or not to live.
So I said let it be!

So you can proudly say,
»I know the unknown!«

So you can always say,
»I know the unknown!«

Each year, we arrive at the same knot of woods, having drawn the same straw.
We grasp, trembling, at what we imagine to be certain death:
A leaf, edges curved up, orange crudely splashed across green.

But would you spare a second thought for the falling leaf that subsumes your life?
Think. Why would the world continuously dash herself
Into pieces, render herself to ash, if she were not made of
Such stuff as phoenixes? Nature goes up into flames each year
With little to no ado, and heals herself without fuss.

Leaves throw themselves from great heights not in pursuit of ruination but of
Revival. Year after year after year we are asked this much:
Allow me to unfurl the fist with which you are clinging to this tree.
Comfort lies in confiding, confessing, and conceding. There is no need to be
Stronger than the Earth’s heart when she is offering it up
To you so singularly. Grant yourself this: that she wants you to
      Smile and shine and grow.

Do you fear your fate in this moment? You misinterpret.
The blameful breeze you imagine you feel is, in actuality,
Earth’s unremitting whisper, pressed into your skin:
“Do as the leaves do. Follow, and fall. You are forgiven.”

You will feel the space
between sounds,
between your fingers
and your faces,

it will hurt your ears
to communicate
any desire to touch,
to see, to hear,

and when you taste
their absense,
it will become far too easy
to long for their perfume
on your pillows.

Our love was beautiful,

innocent and sweet. 

Like flower buds on a tree, seeing the sun for the first time.   

It grew into fresh fruit, refreshing everyone who encountered it.

Then autum came and our fruit dropped to the ground, taking the leaves with it. 

Although it was a sign of death, I still found it beautiful.

We were breath taking.

Our love flowed like rivers and streams hidden deep in the forest. 

Then the cold came, and she came. 

We lost our spark. You spent more time with her, and allowed her to burrow her way into our tree.

Slowly, she took our nutrition and ripped the roots out from under us.  

She froze the remains of us and eventually we died.

Then you grew a new tree with her, using our dead fruit and leaves as nutrients.

Now a new frost has spread and this new winter has killed your tree with her.

This cycle will remain until you have learned how to shelter your tree from the cold. 

But the saddest part is that our tree was not grown from the cold that killed the leaves in which your trees now grow.

Our love was sprouted from the sun, it was fresh and new, and innocent.