Making an apple pie.
But I'm very shy.
What will he think
About my little pie?

I am very worried.
My little heart is buried
Within the effort
To make this pie well-baked.

I hope he will like it.
Or else my effort goes to a pit
A pit of shame and embarrassment
Or a pit of love and vivid.

I was just sitting with my cat,
Spacing out blankly.
And then a person came up and ask
"What are poems to you?" suddenly.

Well, for me
Poems are more than just words.
They are more remarkable than we see.
They are ink, papers and hard work.

Poems are made to spice up life.
To make the small world become bigger.
Poems are also a way to describe
How your emotions bitter.

There are so many ways
To describe what poems had gone through.
And at the end, I will say
"What are poems to you?"

Match, match.
Burning a box of match.
The fire lights up dim.
Brings back the war grim.

Those days through the fences.
March through the trenches.
March through the fire.
Without any desire.

I fought aimlessly
While aiming endlessly.
For I am a soldier
I will give no quarter.

But then the lights burn out.
I came back to reality with a quiet shout.
Comparing to a girl that lives with trees,
Was that really me?

I have so many questions
That I can't even mention.
Life gave me curiosity.
I gave life creativity.

Why doesn't the atmosphere
Stay at one air degree?
Why does my hair fall
When I let it go?

Such simple things for ordinary people.
Yet for me, so knowledgeable.
And there's one answer that holds me tight.
You will answer them for me, right?

Blue moon.
Is it possible?
He said it will come soon.
I dunno if it's gonna be horrible...

He said when the blue moon comes
It's when everything shows their true glory.
When even the things that are troublesome
Become as cute and as happy.

But no such thing can happen, right?
Because the blue moon never happens.
But one thing that is always right
Is that you will always keep me enlightened.

Wherever I go
Shiny moon follows.
The fact for years
Strange for me to hear.

It never stops follow
Wherever I go.
When I'm sad or happy,
Moon is always with me.

Moon doesn't come at day
And only visit at night's haze.
It's been a fact for years
Now, it's common to hear.

Whenever I'm sad or happy,
Moon is always with me.
And I'm more than through,
When you are always with me too.

Hic.
I am not drunk.
I am just slightly...sick...
I'm having a funk.

The world seems to have more color
Than the one I used to adore.
Well, I like this one more,
Let's enjoy this galore!

Then I walked into a water puddle.
I realized something reasonable.
And all the time inside this junk
I was being drunk!

.45 ACP.
The bullet's velocity.
It speeds through the street
With just a single fleet.

7.62
The temperature drives through
Through the way the bullet flies
To where it can finally shine.

.44 magnum.
And the time comes.
The bullets hit their orders.
We finally meet each other.

Staring blankly
At the wall.
Just smiling happily.
Not moving at all.

"She's thinking, maybe."
"Or she's just blind."
"No, she's crazy."
Criticism of all kind.

We do what normal people don't.
And they think we are sick.
But the part they were wrong
What makes us sick makes us unique.

I wanted to be a candle
To light up my dear's dreams.
But before I can even handle
I'm already melting at my seams.

There are times I can emit a dim light.
But sometimes I burn with fright.
I am uncontrollable, maybe.
Or a bit insecure and disposable.

The lights on me keep burning.
Until I melt into something.
But then if you freeze me,
I think you can save me...

The wind howls tonight.
The moon still shines bright.
The leaves are wiggling.
I am still waiting.

Under the soft dancing rain.
The city looks like decoration on porcelain.
The water drops down the vain,
Softly like winds against curtains.

Under a little tree outside.
With the cold, romantic air tonight.
I guess it's a beautiful sight.
Oh look, he is there alright.

Little bullets, little shells.
The ping echoes very well.
The sound of lead falling to the ground.
Peace has finally been found.

The cheering noise of the winners.
And the calming complaints of the losers.
The arguments about anything False and True.
And the hugs between me and you.

Everyone and everything,
With their own noises and things.
But what I love about such loudness,
Is that people won't mind our business.

The little sound of lips touching,
The movement of our kissing.
The little wounds on my shirt
And the victory in our heart.

Life was tasteless
Without interests.
No tragedies, no comets,
Nothing to regret.
But then everything changed.

And everything changed.
Nightmares and depression.
Rainclouds of suicide and mental conditions.
Life would be so much more happy.
If we just live normally.
Thank you for Doki Doki.

I remember, when I was in the army,
Everything was cold and heavy.
So I was affected and trained.
To be as cold and lethalized.

Most people don't look at me normally.
Or I don't think even myself do, actually.
The bloods on my hand, the cold fingers
With my tip on the trigger.

And then he comes in, slowly but surely.
Grabs on my hand with no worries.
The finger on my trigger moves away.
The only time I've ever felt such traces.

I keep remembering, about his arrival.
I suddenly forget about my train arrival.
Because for me, the war is ended
When our hands are intertwined.

I used to walk down the path to my home.
Lonely, cold, just like the norm.
The frostbites still hurt.
Until he touches my cold heart.

I fought battles on the field
And I fought the cold against my feels.
But I certainly couldn't fight
Someone that is in my love sight.

He's always been there, watching
Caring and talking about what I'm thinking.
He gave me a scarf he made.
Since then, my life changed by a shade.

And now I'm here, sitting next to my little vain.
With the shaky movements of the train.
His sleep sounds like blowing into a bullet shell,
It makes a good melody. With his cute face as well.

Cold hail
Along my trail.
Cold air
Along my hair.

It hasn't been so cold.
Temperature hasn't been so low.
Atmosphere hasn't been so chilly.
I haven't been so happy.

Cold dances
With my glance
A glance, cold as ice
With love and spice.

Day another, night another,
I talk to my friend, to each other.
She was a person who stays with nature.
As the rain and moon follow her.

One night, she talked to me.
She talked about happy things.
In a quiet night, with the moon shine brightly,
The rain starts dropping like dancing.

And every night, she's like that.
Always find me and chit chat.
Always with the moon shine bright
And with the rain dancing high.

But one night, she talked to me.
She talked about happy thinks.
In a quiet night, suddenly a burst.
A burst of rain and her emotional curse.

Then every night, she's like that.
Always find me to chit chat.
But it's only sadness and pain,
A broken moon, a stormy rain.

A stream of river.
My pen shivers.
And so, my poem rolls away.
Like a path with only one way.

Anything will go in the past.
Like all my cupcakes and custards.
And if I'm lucky,
My poems become history.

The moonlight shines on my skin,
I take a small walk down the path
Shortly after my quick bath.
Everything seems more strange than I've seen.

The soft, cold wind blows,
Hitting against my soft cheeks,
The streetlamps lit up at where I peek,
With the friendly wind howl.

Walking down my path
Of life and love.
Like wings of a dove,
Soft and gentle like a pat.

Little dreams.
Fondling around your childish mind.
Like a piece of ice cream.
With happiness of all kind.

Dreams about candies,
About bugs and nature.
Dreams about the city,
With clouds, bliss and azure.

With all these thing to dream of
How can our lives become so vain?
With a little cuteness and a bunny hop.
I dream of rain.

I am so confused.
Spinning in my head.
The poems, the words
The inspiration, it hurts.

Writing and erasing
I keep on scratching.
Until my paper sheet tears
Until I make my mind clear.

All these confusion in my head
It's making a patterns with fabric and thread.
The fabric of paper and thread of ink
To give my poem a shade of colorful pink.

Scratching my own head.
Throwing away all my papers.
Pushing out all my pencil's lead.
Trying to see how I can write better.

Ahh, the ideas give confusion.
Writing poems is like a battle.
With you against your own inspiration.
See how your poem can settle.

And until one point, after awhile.
You write your idea on another paper
Like having a mania in poetic style.
A unique poem, unlike others.

City goes to dusk.
People going home.
Changing their courses.
Deciding where they'll come.

Soon it will be evening.
Lights are going up.
On my balcony, waiting
With my little cocoa cup.

And then when the evening come
I rush to get my cute shoes for my feet.
And then, before I leave my home
Where shall we meet?

What if one day
Everything stops
The time runs out
From bottom to top?

The birds stop singing.
The trees stop growing.
The world stops rotating.
The rain stops coming.

Then the sun stops shining.
And moon stops breathing.
And the rivers stop the streams.
And I stop making poems.

One wish
If you had one wish in this world?
What would you wish for?
In this one life changer
What would you do to use this galore?

Would you wish for
Traveling around the world?
Or wish for
Being a little kitty to curl?

Wishes for
Being a bird and escape?
Or wishes for
Being anything that can run from the repeating tape?

Wishes for
Being a normal human person?
Wishes for
Best first impressions?

If it's me, I'd wish
This entire life restarts
And even my poems that will perish.
Only if I had

The world was generated
With trees and animals
Nothing to be afraid.
Until human came.

They put their life to good use.
They invented lots of things.
They put life into the blues.
They made "meanings".

These meanings we made
Squared up mother nature.
It's more tidy in this shade
But it's more than what we are sure.

Later and later, the meanings
Squared up everything around us.
Everything is in for framing.
And for us to discuss.

And then there will be no meanings
Nothing else to square up.
To explain where life is aiming.

Sneeze.
Again.
Freezes
Because of the rain.

I dunno
What to do
Where should I go
And just, myuuu...

Sneezes.
Medicine in mug.
Please.
Give me hug.

It was a cold, cold winter.
It's so cold it hurts.
Until we met each other.
Since then, you lit a bonfire in my heart.

When the world is cold to me.
Your fire embrace the warmth.
When the world is dark on me.
You light up like a candle of candy.

So many times we hold our hands.
You bring warmth and happiness to my life.
So many times, we also fight, eyes blank.
Times like that, my heart turns back to ice.

The fire that changed me.
The fire that has enlightened my path.
You're like a missing puzzle piece.
That I will always admire since the past.

Little dragonfly.
Flapping it's tiny wings.
Giving it's best try.
To ride the air in one swing.

Lights above a car.
Car under a tree.
Fireflies in my jar.
Nature over me.

Little dragonfly.
Show me where you live.
So I can sink myself into nature and try
Try to see how my imagination can dive.

Sneeze. Sneeze.
Sneezing in the breeze.
Sniffing my nose.
My hands freeze.

Cough. Cough.
The cold wind blows.
My whole body is shaking.
I seem more hollow.

Cough and sneeze.
Sickness with me.
I'm sick and tired.
So stay with me.

Water splashes.
Wind dashes.
Leaves dancing.
I'm stargazing.

Stars flashing.
Birds sleeping.
Quiet night.
Quite alright.

Stars shine bright.
Quiet night.
I'm stargazing.
You're watching.

Physical Education.
Filled with stress and frustration.
Running here and there like an idiot.
Can't stop looking ridiculous.

Hopping into sandbox.
Hopefully your knees won't knock.
Or running through a whole school yard.
Hopefully your legs won't react.

It's just frustration.
But it's also a competition.
To show who can endure the longest
Through the stress and become the best.

Tip toe.
Fingers on the go.
Moving on a piano.
Softly like snow.

The music fills my room.
Like a fairy in a shroom.
Little songs, little hum.
Flute, guitar, kits and drums.

A little essence, with a little piano.
With their fingers on the go.
With movements soft as snow.
Tip toe...

I always talk about a pillow.
I know she doesn't like it, but no
She sits there, lets me talk about it.
As I happily talk about it.

How I always love to hug the pillow
How I always stick with the pillow until now.
How I keep talking about my pillow.
And how I always cry with it in my sorrow.

I keep talking about it, she forcedly smile.
We've been talking about it for awhile.
Little did she know,
She was that pillow.

The world was colorless
Meaningless and filled with boredness.
I wander without a route
Until one day, I meet you.

Playing with you is a different experience.
It's like taking a pill of happiness.
I see nothing, but my beautiful dear.
Feeling nothing but giggles as I get near.

The ecstasy to my boring life.
The joy pill that I love all night.
The world was colorless forevermore.
But in the colorless, there are still colors.

A silent night.
Ambience.
You and me, side by side.
Sitting in the silence.

Giving cookies.
Holding hands.
Huggies.
Warmth in our hands.

A quiet night.
It's so calming.
How could one think
We are siblings?

Music notes fly around.
My head goes round and round.
Playing with the melody.
In my head, a sudden symphony.

My fingers move along the keys.
Humming happily as I can be.
Mi to Fa, then to So.
The class has just begun.

Moving my fingers along the keys.
My hair waves along the movement of my melody.
My head goes round and round.
Music notes fly around.

The notes are lower than my emotions.
The instruments break just like my motions.
I keep pressing the wrong keys, messing up a line.
Just like that moment I mess up my life.

Now I see why it's called a piano.
Because for me, that's a no.
And also for me, I deserve nothing.
And only the most perishing things.

It hurts.
Even if it's just some flirts.
Even if it's just a poem.
It still feels like shattering frames.

I can't feel the same rhythm
From the fingers of my own mechanism.
Perhaps it's just difficulties?
Or it's just myself being consumed with anxiety?

Or maybe, it's just that I'm worried.
That I think my own color is blurried.
Guess I'll just have to wash my face.
And keep up with my pace.

A little cupcake.
Like a little slider break.
It comes suddenly,
With laughs and giggles happily.

Sugar, spice.
Everything nice.
To cheer you up a little.
To pop you like a bubble.

Everything around me
Is as cute as they can be.
I don't mind if for you, it's ugly
It's only the way that you see.

Keys.
As hard as it can be
I'm still playing my little piano.
Remember the rhythm as I go.

Pressing this and that.
The memory on the tip of my hat.
As I sit on my chair
Playing something that sounds fair.

A little music in life.
A little ocean you can dive.
To bring the spice to your core.
And to bring the emotions to the one you adore.

There's no time!
Not enough for my poem.
Not enough to make anything rhymes.
Not enough for my requiem.

There's no time.
The birds hurriedly fly home.
The sky darkens it's chime.
Humans go back home in the norm.

There's never enough time
To do anything.
To even write a poem.
Or to meet you, out of everything.

Notes and Tones.
Sitting on my throne.
Playing instruments.
With a weird enjoyment.

Musics are like toys
For bigger girls and boys.
Just arrange the sounds
And bring the melody to the cloud.

Notes and Tones.
My own music zone.
For my own taste and youth.
For my daily reminder of you.

I have no idea why.
But I make poems out of everything.
You just don't have to be shy.
And you can write about anything.

Just add a little spice
And put in some effort
Make it a little nice
You can always afford.

Now you need a pen.
To describe your words.
And show all your friends
How your poem works!

Guitar.
Organya.
I can already sense
Compliments and complains.

A new instrument.
For a new excitement.
One thing you never tried before
Suddenly is the thing you adore.

I'm getting a new instrument.
To bring music to my enjoyment.
To make life a little sweeter.
And to make our love more bitter.

Rice and Cupcake.
They don't even match.
But as I take.
They are still in one batch.

Rice is the main delicacy!
While cupcake is for dessert!
So delicious and healthy.
You can't desert!

Sometimes we are like cupcakes and rice.
We seem so opposite to each other.
But as long as we are nice.
Then we can live happily ever after.

Fried rice and cupcake.
With a little milkshake.
For a late night dinner.
Can't get any better.

Such delicious food.
Such silent mood.
In such a peaceful night.
Everything is alright.

Sitting here, enjoying...
Fresh air, I'm breathing...
I gaze upon the sky.
I think my friend is also enjoying the night.

Coldness fills the air.
I walk through the fair.
Checking all the shops,
Rolling, dancing non-stop.

Clothes and food.
Buy everything, everywhere I set foot.
I feel bad for overspending.
But it's a waste not spending.

One night out.
Singing out loud.
A happy mind under the light.
Oh, such wonderful night!

Sushi.
Fresh and slushy.
Small, little seaweed roll.
Around a piece of tuna, that's all.

It may seem pretty small.
But that's just the detail we know.
What you didn't expect
Is how the nutrition affects.

Humans are like sushi's.
Some seem useless and pitiful, really.
But they have inner power.
To make you shut all your laughter.

Apples.
Sweet and red.
But not always available.
Still, the best.

Juicy, healthy.
Crispy and delicious.
I'm so hungry.
And the more I'm hungry, the more I'm curious.

Apples.
Sweet little fruit for your break time.
Not always available.
But at least it doesn't need to rhyme.