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 Nov 2017 vllxch
As I catch my last breath,
I wish to speak my last words.
Taking the opportunity before death
That this message would be heard.

I'm sorry friends families and foes,
My body is like of a decaying rose,
To the one I love, I will miss you the most,
From the day we've met till you gave me my daily dose.

Scurrying away, the life of a diseased one.
Soon enough, I will be a deceased man.
I feel the chill, the Death has come,
And all the pain will soon be gone.

Oh please don't cry, I want you to be happy.
Because someday, somehow you would be able to see me,
Once that day comes, we'll eat, dance and party
But now, smiling is all you can do for me.

As these words' coming to an end, I would say you this.
Don't forget about me, if you please,
But don't weep, be happy and have peace
For that's a dying man's only wish.
I dedicate this to my friend who died because of aneurysm. A loud and happy man whose death is so sudden he doesn't got the chance to say goodbye. For someone who has a dying love one, don't weep. To see you happy is their only wish.
 Jul 2017 vllxch
One thing about rain:
it's not just water nor droplets
but bullets of different emotions.
A match stick that burns your soul
in a deep, vague coldness.

Some found happiness from it;
I once did.
And some did find something
they did not want nor expect.

But a thing about rain:
you will always find something.
It will always give you a thing,
even if you're not aware.
And when you're not aware,
let me tell you,
it is the rain.

A thing about rain,
it's a door.
A door that leads to places you once went.
A door that opens widely for a rent.
It is more than just water;
it's a memory
You can't assume it is the same place
you once longed to be.
We can't say that door is safe
nor the door is free.

Some were trapped,
some managed to escape,
some managed to smile,
and I managed to fear.
I fear that rain would prolong and
would bear a fruit.
But it didn't, it just plucked up
a great root.

How wonderful the rain could be.
How it crashed to ground a resilient tree.
How one could change with a single memory.
And how rain triggers my anxiety.
Rainy weather makes me anxious sometimes.

— The End —