to say that you didn't love me
was a crucial mistake i made for eternity

times like this, i stare deeply into the abyss.
to say that i loved you
just shows that patience is virtue

didn't have that before you left,
i now understand why i feel so left.

if these feelings were in me,
i wonder,
i ponder,
why didn't we be?

alas, ignorance was not bliss for me,
only to have you be further away from me.

never saw you again
i can only have so much to gain.

Knowing who you should
love
is like figuring out an
impossible curve.

The feeling comes and goes.
Relationships has their ups and lows.
Sincerity is a must in them;
without it, everything's destroyed
with a clamp.
Trust requires patience,
as how it was needed to build
marvelous creations.

I keep thinking : should I keep waiting?
I keep reminding to myself by whispering:
am I losing to the other buildings?

I have an alter ego,
it will come and go,
but I feel like it wants to let me know,
that it's time for me to go.

I'm afraid of it taking over my body;
if it does then I'll always be angry.

I fear of it being dominant;
I'll always yearn to burn.

I dislike not being able to rid of it,
because I want to always cool down the heat.

I want to fly the sky without
its tie, preventing me to cry.

Reading my poems can make you
*****,
but there are messages hidden
beneath some of it.

Saying the lyrics of a song
can be fun,
but some of them can make you
trigger the gun.

Both provides clear view of
letters,
but one of them is capable of changing capitals.

Starting to chase for
new ideas,
but still reminding myself to be
true to my years.
What a disaster.
People are looking for a master.
Covering up scars with just a plaster.
Bet those who'd walked the crater
are having a great platter.
Hearts flatter
because they left earlier than later.

They might even pity
for those in the city
for not being able to get proper priority.

We're nearly halfway through,
but you still have not understood
my truth.

Finish all of my poems,
like as if you were reciting
anthems.
Only will you
see me,
see my heart,
see my colors,
see my knowledge.

Read on, to learn about
my thoughts,
but don't let it clot.

Look deeper into my laughs,
and you'll see the truth.

Look carefully at my eyes,
and you'll see my rage blowing up the roof.

Place your hand on my chest,
and you'll realize, I'm not the best.

Learn more about me,
you'll see your true form.

Throw a stone at me,
I'll be quiet and
return back to my dorm.

Till now, I still can't
understand why
I find it hard to
say goodbye.
Maybe it's because,
I've known you for long
so I'm not used to having a pause.

I really yearn
to earn
to learn
why it'll burn
if I lose my turn.

I often see politics appearing on
news, but
I think I know that it's all scripted.

I occasionally see people rioting on
television,
though I'm not sure if they're fighting
with the right motion.

This might not come to mind, but
how innocent was it on 1999?
Oh, how I wish I was born before
infections could be airborne.
For all I know, I never know when I'll go.

In school, people act like a fool,
meaning to win people who drool.
Meanwhile, the mature sit back and
relax,
but not forgetting to watch
their backs;
they can be evil,
but they dislike befriending the devil.
Thoughts and prayers sent when
friends die,
however none given when
people cry.
Bullying is a must,
but it's only the crust.

I could write 56 poems if I wanted
to,
but only one of them would be true.
I have yet to become a mature
adult,
but why does it feel like my heart is
cobalt?
Reading will never equate to our brains,
but understanding provides a textbook
filled with solution;
knowledge is essential,
but so is our motion -
it's the potential drive that influences the notion.

Frantically rioting for
rights,
hysterically forgetting about
future rights.
Control this,
control these,
**** - they ask -
could there ever be peace?
Forget the list;
useless destruction of the dungeon
hiding the white pigeons,
burying the treason.
The reach, walk on a beach,
the jobless,
wants to make them preach,
only causing a glitch.

Getting to heaven,
seems like an impossible level.
Though, the forgiven
somehow gets a glimpse of the marvel.
People acknowledge facts,
but they worship cheques;
for that is their way
of filling up the cracks.
All of these bitter explanation
better have a logical debate.
Hell, even a simple mark of exclamation
can have a ****** rebate.
Eat the bars
of hell,
while you hear screamings in
your cell.

Outside, I'm a genius.
Through the other side,
I'm actually just filled with
random ideas,
unpredictable madness,
sudden need of freedom
from this crazy kingdom.
I want to fly,
but when I look at the sky,
I only can dream to try.
Filling up my head with loneliness,
a subtle touch of hollowness,
in this empty harness
trying to protect my fears
from the curse.

Sometimes, I write to
laugh,
but other times I write to
bluff. Thinking about the
cage I left, before I felt
bereft.
Increasing years, only
gave me tears to race
on my cheeks,
with techniques
of continuous
streaks.

If you know why, then
don't cry.
You say we should help,
but make me feel like
crap.
What a **** shame,
getting the blame,
adding fuel to the flame.

They say help me, I need
answers.
I reply,
find out your true weakness,
chase the light
in the darkness.
Surely, an impossible feat,
but beat me to it,
you'll know what to do when you meet it.

Intensive writing,
calm thinking.
Release the thoughts of prison,
the world would surely be
in unison.
A fool I am,
yes.
But an idiot I am,
it does not represent my crest.

I see you, across the ocean, waving hands to someone new.
It's such a different feeling to be crying instead of lighting,
no fighting. Yet, you appear calm, face not sour like a plum.
How do you do it? I need not get a reply for my rhetorical need.

Money, is said to solve problems of all
kind
but it also can cause conflicts of any
kind.
With money, comes power
with power, comes greed
and it is with greed, that you fall off the tower.