What is your special secret you’ve been hiding for years
To a world that is filled with rumors and hate?
Who is that person to correct us all?
Now that God appears in different tastes and genres?

Desperate for expression,
I just wanted the world to stop.
The opinions.
The gossips in office hallways about the new hot employee.
The politically righteous students who just won’t stop
proving their pointless point over a preserved dead body
buried in a branded graveyard.
That guy who wants everyone to think of himself
as if he’s cool so he just doesn’t care but he needs
everyone to stay thinking about him being cool always.
The thought of I’m too pretentious and that my
thoughts and poems are *******.
That person who shoves it in my face that she
is in good hands now that she obtained
her license. (Little did she know that she
can’t brag anymore once she’s dead)
That person who has all the support she needs
when she’s expressing herself.
That co-worker, though a slacker as ****,
still gets to have a nice sum of increase.
That co-worker... ugh.. just stop.

I’m here.

My feet like anchor.
Constant.
Decaying.
Marching an endless march.
Forward is the only the direction.

My secret is I haven’t been honest for years.
The last time didn’t went so well.
I created enemies more than I keep friends.
I let an abuse gain its momentum
Until it’s too late.

For ****’s sake;
I’m sick and worn out.
People can’t really practice empathy
and learn its limitations.

This thought and that,
I’m stopping now.

brief introductions, skipping fining judgments and
unconsciously accepting regret some days later;
i should’ve known better. . .
anna is a narcissist.
jerome is a hipster.
kenneth (also a hipster) wants to be the alpha all the time
when it comes to movies.
anthony’s a poet, at least considers himself
to be one because he writes
and stupid girls loves his generic works.
marianne thinks of herself sharp and has
nothing to say but “cliche” on art pieces
that she doesn’t like, pretentious as ****.
just because kath graduated from one of the
well-known universities the world
has ever known, her opinions and
views about everything must be and should be golden.
olivia who seemed to be a kid at heart,
turns out to be a ****-loving ****** of all sorts.
jacob who’s good at playing guitar is a self-indulged
narcissist
and thinks that anyone who’s not as good as him
or plays in band like he does can’t join he
and friends’ “clique,”
like hell it would mean the world to me
to be a part of those phonies.
professor richards who teaches literature
disapproves of my favorite writers, also a phony.
benison is a bully with nuts for brains.
to hell with this, and i’m a pacifist who’s
judgmental.

man has flaws.
they don't function like
those seen in pop culture.

flawed by the thorns of life;
what you see with your eyes
before every hide is a shape
that isn't permanent
and the final form of it is death,
sealed in coffins
and sometimes ashes sealed in urns;

life is good.
life tells you to smoke away.
life shuts you as if
you're aware of its murders.

life is good to you
and you have friends.

life is not fair for
you don't have real ones.

life is good to you
and you don't starve.

life is not fair for
you don't get to
experience what you envy.

life is good to you
because you don't
worry and your
parents raised you well.

life is good to you
because Jesus' followers
made you feel you are saved.

life is not fair because Jesus
only stayed in your head
but not with the actualities.

life is not fair
and you complain
more than you give thanks
and you really couldn't
do something about it.

life is good,
narrowed down
by likes, reactions,
prayers,
condolences
and kind regards like
those inspiring videos
of man getting through all
hardships
that was made by people
lined up for handsome
amounts of payrolls.

life comes after life
after life
after life.

life is fair.
life is. .
innocent.

never wanting to be a part of it all,
he just stares at them as they
carry their own opinions
and force-shove it to each other’s faces

he thinks that it’s pointless
to even think about it.

stuck in his room, wasting away,
he also thinks that his
enemies are doing fine and all

he can’t care anymore
and what matters to him most
is going home after work
everyday.

he stopped claiming people
as his friends
for they don’t really act like one.

it gives him joy to see
people enjoy the simplest of
things without any
stains of narcissism like
that family he and his girlfriend
saw at the mall,
where the father and the mother
are making the most of
their sons’ 9th birthday.. .. ..

well..
he hates narcissists.
those self-indulged,
self-righteous
people of all sorts
who really don’t
contribute much.
to him they are just
another form of pollution. . .
(and if they get offended,
he doesn’t care much. they
can babble as much as they
please but yeah, to him they
don’t really matter because
they are narcissists)

but he loves music and poetry
and being alone.

he prefers to die young
and nobody cares about it
really.

Since when did the heavens get so cold to me?
I was once the night who soared through each
broken dreams and piece them back together
Into something all hearts wished to possess.

Yesterday the street was leading me
to the glowing
of the fallen humming birds;
I yield and hope that
may God breathe life once again
to those who had no choice but to regress.

I must continue.
The heavens does not stand with me
on this one.
Not this time.

I have to lift my cadaver
Higher than the clouds.
Self-motivation will never be enough.
I may fail with this one long leap.

Sleep is deadly.
Loneliness is silent.
My heart is on stealth.
The world observes.

I won't let you do that to me anymore.

My body and mind will always
stand against you
as
the heavens
and its disapproval
may end me soon.

In a tiny space in a room filled with sadness,
I hear you there holy light.
Loneliness isn’t that bad, just misinterpreted.
Of all the people I pass through as I walk each day,
Wherever I go, I never had a single thought
About being inside a crowded room other
Than elevators or small bar gigs.
So here is the thing:
A single note from any musical instrument
Could mean so much more than

The rest of its parts and yet,
We always ask for everyone to come
When we want them to.
.
Is it that hard to stop breathing for
A moment and see how it feels
Like to have something taken out of your life
And for that you have to keep moving on
And you have to function like you are some
Kind of a puzzle, complete with all its
Pieces.

Pieces.
These are the parts that should never
Go missing.
Any single one of them.

This is something you probably heard before
But chose to make no action
Just because no one really talks about it
And doing so would make you look or sound
Desperate or most likely
To be branded with terms
You don’t like being addressed with.

It’s not just depression, sadness, the broken or
the tragedy that lies beneath every story
untold.

It’s being aware that human hides don’t
Live that long and that everyone should
know.

There you have it.
You don’t hear it everyday.
But if you have any idea about what I mean
Then start making it today;
With the people such as your friends, relatives
And most likely people who are too
Or should I say, a little bit lost.

when you’re someone who’s keeping
someone
awake at night
remember that the apple won’t fall
and all that i forgot.

this mental state ain’t just an asset
but also a source of paranoia of all sorts.
you can pretend it’s not in yer (rrr) head
but it shows when your head
is clouded by beer or ******
or sober enough to start a fight with
reality.

how come it’s an asset?
many pretentious artists,
well i don’t know who is
but surely not all is as vibrant
as they seem to be.

wow!

the lines are awesome,
how about sharing it?

well. . .
I’m not so sure about this
but I think it’s not really
necessary to do so..

then why do you write these
scattered *******
that makes your reader
induce self-confusion
that also makes them think
that this is ******* and gay?

but, but they read it anyway.

well how do you know
someone or at least tell
that someone IS really reading this?

see?

you don’t exactly know how to
interpret that you and I
are

the

same.