The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

let me

speak my
autumn leaves
and the consequences of their
swirl

of naked pale trees
shivering

talk calmly  
to the melted snow flakes
revolutionise with the icy wind

purl alongside spring fishes
upstream

breathe dense air
down my sore chest

let me
confess my
storm

make peace
at last
with the
shifting of seasons

Your soft brown eyes collide with mine
And my whole world starts spinning
Round like a top
As I drop
Drowning in those eyes

Pain
At the age of 14, the world lost a beautiful boy.
Living in a world of survival.
Things are never easy.
And slowly he found peace.
Ending. Ending. Ending
Words hurt. Like a tattoo etched on the skin, forever it will remain.  
My child, please do not let your grades define you.
A great pain must be felt.
May you rest in peace.
You are in the arms of a better place.

Loss
Mother, do not blame yourself.
Father too.
For it is not your fault for not doing enough.
Please know that he loves you very much.
We may loose a loved one and its hard to move on.
But remember we must keep the good memories with us.
We must not forget them.

Sadness
When I heard the news, I felt numb, weak..
Tears slowly falling.
Grades is such a big thing. I used to care about them too.
Now, growing up I realized that it does not define who I really am.
In fact it does not measure my capacity of knowledge.
However, the sadness remains.

There's more
static in the air than
usual
and the faintest
signal is trying to
get through
to our novelty Garfield radio
but I'm not sure you want
to hear it
or if we're just gonna
watch TV instead