fire raining down from the sky
and my planet turned to hell
with no sign of life but only cries
of his, her and their memories at midnight

strange streams leaking from my eyes
i wonder, “will i even survive?”
poetry i write from every dying
pieces of memories and fragments of my life

at the cemetery of dreams
buried but not achieved
their dead soul rises at night
to haunt my existence
and remind those good memories

something i added on the fabric
something i penned on the paper
remain unforgettable
and I find myself reeling and mourning
days turned to nights
and nights turned to days
with no sign of goodbye

fleeting memory of you
one fateful encounter
you are my muse
a solace in that moment
standing across the road
our roads will never cross
you see I’m a “sad amorist”
i will always say, “our stars will never align”
i will paint my knuckles red
for a glimpse of you
but scared of the thought
you belong to someone else
i’ll leave a letter at your door
my idea of you will never fade
my ink for you will never run dry
it’s a letter that i will never fly

wake me up when it’s all over
“when the ink of my pen stops bleeding
when there is no trace of their memories”
wake me up when the nightmare is over

november’s sadness will take me down
burn the bridges to the next run
lunar eclipse and pacing under the sun
gray will return in it’s darkest shade

the chains that hold on to me
i kept ‘hold on to the memories’
now screaming looking at the sky
beacon tell me will I survive?

the chains of the past
and the pain stuck under my skin
the blood moon is on the rise
and something buried will come out at night

in chains of blood
in chains of memories
i try to survive
but haunting midnights comes after

to be someone’s muse- a feeling unknown!
an honor so grand but beyond my hope,
the vastness of the sea before my eyes
its secrets can’t be hold in a rhyme,
midnight’s darkness- a friend before
now a foe, never haunted me before
a rose by other name can be “forget-me-not”
sorrows, sorrows and prayers always knock at my door,
cemetery is the home for the spirits
cemetery is the home for the memories,
i long for the “good old days”
when summer never left me alone,
now in my winter’s barren land
a glittery hope is what i pray for!

oh my these beautiful days!
autumn has come and will soon be gone
with leaves falling down brown and pale

some leaves are clinging with the hope
will they even survive the winter’s cold rage?
i summon the greatest of the force
to teach them how to fall away

hope is a devil in disguise
that will make everyday hard to survive
if you don’t fall down, will have nowhere to stay