wouldn't it be such a shame
if I ever find out
you've never written about me
meanwhile I've published a whole book for you

Dear feet,

Bring me to places where my heart will be tried; my mind be blown; my faith be tested; my reason be questioned.

I want my life to be a worthwhile walk. That after all the devastations you brought me in. And the cuts you got where the blood spilled.
I could write on this uneasy ground,

"I have had a hard one, but at least, I fought to live and was not defeated."

Yours,
-*qyf

And now you like simple girls
When I already combed my hair
Like the way your former girls do

When I already painted my lips
Like how the roses would bloom
In rows in the fields

When I already dressed myself
With how the pretty girls do

When I already turned into something
Your senses have been looking for

"I like simple girls"
And I never got the irony
Turned myself into someone I don't know
Because now, right in this moment

*You like simple girls...

No no darling
You're not the reason I'm crying
No no, don't feel so important.

I want to puke,
The little I had left inside
I rushed on to pour them into you.
Now, I see why wise men say, only fools rush in
But oh well, I've always proved myself as a fool.

I feel like a piece of trash,
For I was stupid on trusting in someone again.
I feel like a joke to you
When it's usually the other way around
Tables were turned, just your way, not mine.

If there's a way to dig a little deeper into
       a new layer of skin, tap into
something in our bones that hasn't already
       been analyzed and speculated by
doctors under bright white lights on cold
       impersonal tables surrounded by
an army of masked, gloved and
       sanitary conscious individuals-
a method of existing that hasn't
       been romanticized and isn't cliche,
I'd really like to know.

       Because in vicious turbulent cycles I'm falling head first
for things that have been worshipped
       so many times in trance-like
moments of adolescent anguish and
       pretenses of solitude seeking introverts that lie
to themselves cause they don't have
       the guts to do it to others.

Who the hell is alright behind a smile masking a cringe?

       And all the tropes idolized and hymns
murmured by Sad folk
       don't really make you feel special anymore
cause you've lost your individuality
       by stepping into yet another trap.

But then again hating all things has long ago been branded as
       valueless, when in fact
values are the only things you're really searching for.