Sitting on the edge not worthy to sit on,
while learning to be a rebel through smokes
and the wind instantly fades ──
the smell of a dying hope.
There I was...
mourning with the dreams
that has been kept as dreams for years.


There were no stars in the evening sky,
and the crescent moon has just
kissed the horizon as I came.
The only thing I've just remembered
from that night, was the sound of
the waves below my feet hurting the
shoreline that was so used to the pains.


With streaks and bruises
marking the abused roads.
Minimal lights just enough to create
a silhouette concealing my soul.
The edge of the next city, between miles
of unforeseeable waters from me,
a symbol of groups,
divided by riches and misery. .


I turned back and walked home,
in a home that was never mine.
I was close to my neighborhood
when I decided to return
and sit back on the edge not worthy to sit on.
A guarantee that at least I'll have
the thoughts that was mine all along.

Not everything that's beautiful
lasts forever, even flower wilts.

Not everything that's in the sky
remain high, even the birds find
branches to rest on.

Not everything that's strong remain
courageous, even irons get
weakened by its own rust.

Not all that's melodic remain to
serenade ears, ocean waves
get furious too.

Not all that remains will remain,
even doves that are settled finds
a new home.

Lying on the floor
in the unpopular rooftop.
Under a half moon,
partially hidden by clouds.

Eyes closed,
both hands as pillows.
Furious mind,
where did I go wrong?
Curious about the paths
I haven't been on.

Was I meant to be in the place
that I hope I will be?
Or was I still dwelling on the dreams
I created while lying on the
rooftop floor under a moon halo?
Questions of life,
I can't still answer.

While they throw bones,
our stomachs rumble.
Screaming, making noises,
the hymn of the poor.


While they can still see
what night looks like,
we're in the darkness,
waiting for tomorrow,
so our eyes could see again.


While they sip the last toast
of their glorious celebration,
we dreamed of still living the day
that comes after the night.


Bellies empty,
knees that shakes from hunger
and the lust of nothing,
but to feed our mouths.


This is the world I will ever know,
the world that will never be fair.
The world that kills you,
so it could still live.
The world I dreamed to leave.