if you were to be mine,
it would be a laughing matter,
but if you were meant to be hers,
it would be a “perfect match”, God sent from heaven

as vast as my mind,
as vast as your mind,
as vast as the love in this world,
and the sea,
the universe even,
i bet the stars;
no thoughts of me would be the first thing to come across you.

small gesture and a brief conversation could mean nothing to me,
but to you?
it’s different-
it is big enough,
big enough to make you think,
that the truly small gesture was simply meant for you,
when it’s just how a normal human being act,
out of kindness to everyone else,
but you take it the wrong way,
because you.are.so.into.them,
absolutely in love with them,
or in my words,
you are absolutely deluding yourself.

someday maybe i will realised that i play no role in your life,
a lead character?
no. not even a side character would fit me in your story,
it’s not my thinking,
i’m not insecure,
but i realised maybe i’m just fit to be the witness of your story,
the one who captured how each of your story unfold,
one by one,
where your tears fall,
and where you laugh until your face become red,
it’s more or less like a cameraman.

this time i’ll let you win,
not for the sake of my pride nor yours,
it’s for the closure,
that i have always wanted.

My mom,
is a gas lighter,
while my dad,
is the cigarette,
two things that are perfect for each other,
yet deadly when combined;

day by day,
the smokes,
**** their own children,
without noticing,
people called it second-hand smoker,
the cancer consumes them,
and finally, rot to die;
untreated.

I look into your eyes,
and I see myself,
once more,
I look into your eyes,
and I see her.

At the end of the day,
you’re the only one I want.

i looked down at the stairs of hope
and hoping there’s someone
who will climb the stairs as well
but when i reach another stair
i fall back to hopeless.

i go back
to what kills me
even if i was never found
while being clean
i still go back
to what kills me at 3am.

because i know
sometimes she sits
on the bed
crying and regretting

the choices she wish
she never made
at a ripe age.

I open the door…,
and I see myself;
my tiny self sitting at the corner,
crying in the dark.

I am afraid of the future may hold,
of what I may become or may not,
of how I will turn out,
a father’s child or a mother’s child?
pathetic like my mother?
or abusive like my father?
I don’t get to pick and choose,
It’s in me.

i spent my childhood, like a teenager,
and i spent my adolescent years,
behaving like an adult,
and i tried to go back to my childhood,
i realise there’s nothing,
i realise i don’t remember anything,
i even force the feeling,
to actually feel something,
but- i don’t feel anything?
how is it possible,
that i’ve grown so fast,
but left ‘myself’ behind,
with tattered mind,
and shattered timeline,
alongside the traumatising lifeline.

reach me, my inner child,
let me return your hugs and pat your back when you cries,
and listen to what you have to say,
reach me,
inner child.

jika semalam dikatakan duka,
biar malam ini engkau berlara,
dalam hening sepi,
engkau kian bercinta,
walau takdir terputus mati.

should I burn myself,
or should I burn my soul,
shall I remind myself,
not to lit the candle,
or should I remind myself,
not to play with fire,

no one would be able to tell;
that it is a soul to sell,
and you already fell,
slowly, into the pit of hell.

by day,
the sun lost its shine,
it will be the day,
the moon took over,
to fight against the void,
of darkness,
along with the dead stars.