He was so in love
With the way she
Spun words
Scintillating with brilliance
To the point it became
An obsession
With how magic and wonder
Floated so effortlessly around her
And was oblivious to the fact that
He was caught,
Forever trapped in her web.

Your name
Resides in the crevices of my mind
Like the lyrics
To an old favourite song.
It's sweet, familiar,
And brings back memories.
I'll always enjoy humming its tune,
And smiling a wistful smile
Whenever it plays on the radio.

But just like an old song,
It has been replaced
By the upbeat dance music
I listen to now.
There are some words
I don't quite remember,
Some notes I can't hit anymore.

Most of all,
It lost the passion
I once got lost in.

"What's wrong with asking?
It's only a harmless question."

"It may be a harmless question,
But you may not get
A harmless answer."

She gave away
Pieces of her heart
Until she was only left
With a one tiny, broken piece.

For once
She is lost in books
Instead of
In his eyes.

Isn't it queer
How puppets,
Made of cloth
And button eyes
Can be so animated
And lively

While humans
Like myself
With a beating heart
And blinking eyes
Are too tired
To even smile?

Then again,
Puppets have
A puppeteer's hands
Working the magic
While I
Am dragging myself
Across the bumpy roads
Alone.

{a.s}

"Why should I care
About the moon?
It is merely a rock
Illuminated by the sun."

"Ah, then
Why do you care
About him?
He's merely a broken human
Pieced together by your mind."

Love
Is just a seemingly beautiful
Excuse
For delusion.

Love
Is just a seemingly pleasurable
Feeling
To fill our empty souls.

Love
Is for
Fools.

Mirrors

She's always liked mirrors.

Anything with a reflective surface, really. Something she could see herself with. Like the windows in the classroom, so she could turn her head and check if her name tag was slanted during lessons. Or the puddles of rainwater on the damp track, which she would glance at occsionally while running to see if her hair was in a mess. Sometimes, she would even discreetly use the grainy reverse camera on her phone in the bus, in case a pimple had popped up in school.

To her, they were a great friend. One that saved her from potentially embarrassing incidents. One that would point out tiny flaws that needed a bit of correcting. One that showed her best features, like the way her big hazel eyes always sparkled with enthusiasm.

Slowly, the mirror became a servant. A tool to help her see where the eyeliner was going. To make sure there was no lip gloss on her cheeks. A weak nod of confirmation, that she looked like the models in magazines. So close to perfection.

But never perfect.

That's what her mind would repeat to her, over and over again. Just look at the mirror, it would say.

And so the mirror became a weapon of destruction she detested so much. It seemingly taunted her dry and frizzy locks, the excess fat around her waist, the dry flakes of skin on her lips. It was hard to avert her eyes from those tempting reflective surfaces. Even when she smashed her own mirror, not caring about the seven years of bad luck it would bring about, she was still able to see distorted bits of herself through the sharp-edged fragments.

It led her to sleepless nights, scouring the internet for beauty how-tos. It led to the pocket money she saved from skipping lunch, money she would use when sneaking to the shops to buy cheap drugstore mascara. It led to her becoming a follower of society, a follower of the trends, whatever was popular.

She became a mirror.

The world is
Filled to the brim
With
Contradicting information.

We're spinning webs of
Pretentious words
With poison-laced thread.

Remember when we
Confided in each other
Laughed at the
Shallowness of society?

And as the days went by
My feelings
Our feelings for each other
Grew stronger
And we confessed.
I recall how
Warm and red
My face was.  

We were so close,
You were the only true friend
I had.
I trusted you,
Loved you.
And once upon a time
I was sure you did, too.

But what happened?
Did I say something wrong?
Or did your fickle mind
Simply grow bored
Of this pathetic, desperate girl
With a warped view of the world?

Because now
We barely talk
And I'm always the one who
Initiates a conversation
That always ends so abruptly.

Can we go back to
What we used to be?
Best friends,
Nothing more?

I'm not asking for romance,
I long gave up on that.

I used to look
At the world
With rose-tinted glasses.
To me,
Everything was beautiful
And innocent, pure
How could anything
Be evil?

But the same world
I admired
With eyes open wide
In awe
Was very cruel.
It splattered blood
And sprayed black paint
Onto my twisted lenses
And the beautiful
Sunset shade of pink
Was covered with
Such horror.

I never saw anything
The same way again.

But I still haven't lost hope.
I continue
Trying my best
To look out these tainted glasses
Hoping that maybe
I'll find someone
Who's willing
To clean the lenses.

Why do you
Say life is
Painful and dreary?
Why have you lost hope?
Is it really a long,
Torturous struggle?

Maybe you could
Change your perspective.
Look at things
A different way.
Try another angle,
Find the good in things.

Perhaps
That will make you
Happier.

Escaping from the cage
That's kept her in so long
She tiptoes cautiously
Feet on the ground
After what seems like forever.

Getting used to it
She starts running
Stiff, creaking joints
Oiled by the fresh air, in a way.
Dancing, prancing,
Flowing gracefully
Like the wind.

She starts
Flying
Free.

What should I write about?
This thought,
Or that?
Think I could combine them all
Into one poem?
Or will it turn out
A mess?

Should I use this word,
Or another?
What if I misuse it?

No,
The words don't click together
They sound so foreign.
Goodness,
I can't find a word
To describe this!
What shall I do?

I've used this word
So many times
Repeating it over and over
In this poem.
I need some synonyms
But they all don't fit!

Why is it
That it sounded so beautiful
In my head
But hurts my eyes
On the paper?

Perhaps
I shouldn't write
For now.

I painstakingly
Edit my pictures
Select my captions
Carefully.

Hashtag like there's no tomorrow,
Because hey,
How else can I get noticed?

I check the number of likes
And comments that I get
By the minute
Refreshing
And refreshing
Again.

Follow those famous people
In the hopes I'll
Get followed back.

Lady Gaga could not
Have said it better.
I live
For the applause.

Her eyes
Were always
Full of mischief
They sparkled with delight,
And always had
That special glint in them.

But if you looked closely enough
You would see
Swollen rims
From crying herself to sleep.
That sparkle
You'd think you knew so well
Was merely a mask
For the true dullness
And lack of hope
Within.

And perhaps
If you looked longed enough
You would see
The very beginnings
Of a supressed tear.

If only
I realised what was going on
In her eyes
Before it was too late.

Us poets
Aren't we all the same?

We all write about
Love, lust, heartbreak, hatred.
Depression, self-harm, recovery, relapses.
The sun and the rain, the breeze, the moon and stars.
Remembering, forgetting, past mistakes.

Do we not centre around these topics?

It's all just a matter of
Twisting, manipulating
Phrases used one too many times.
Adding a touch of yourself here,
Another hint there.

To conjure something
We call
Original.

It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember, it hurts.

I still find it
Hard to let go.

I was deluded,
Tricked by myself
Thinking
I had moved on.

But all I had to do
Was replay my favourite memory
Of you and I
And
I had a relapse.

I started falling for you,
Now miles away,
All over again.

Usually I'm fine
With me not being nice to others
And others not being nice to me
In return.
That's okay.
I don't mind
Living a life
Separate from everyone else.  

But then I see people
Being nice to others
And I think
"Why doesn't anyone do this
To me?"

So I end up feeling
Like an unwanted *******.

Is there anyone
Who doesn't cut
In the middle of the night
And hides their scars
Underneath bracelets
And baggy sweaters
But feels sad, suicidal,
Crying in bed,
Losing hope in life?

Is there anyone
Who doesn't starve
Or force herself to puke
With a mind that
Condemns every bit of fat
But feels
Insecure,
Thinks herself as ugly?

Is there anyone
Who isn't ostracised,
Mocked, bullied,
Betrayed
But still feels alone,
Left out,
Out of place?

Is there anyone
Who's neither here
Nor there?

Is there anyone else
Like me?

Oh, save me
From the depths of
Immature
Teenage
Infatuation.

She looked at how
Everyone was so sad,
So in need of help,
And thought,
"Maybe I could do something
To help!"

And then she realised,
Laughing bitterly
That she couldn't even
Save herself.

They taught her
Not to believe
The sweet nothings
Boys would tell her.
"I would do anything for you."
"You mean the world to me!"
"Oh, darling, I love you so much."

For they were all lies.

Little did they know
That she, too,
Would never believe those lies.
In fact,
She was the one
Who told them.

Sure,
We don't go into gang fights,
Or drink, do drugs or have ***.
We're the cream of the crop,
Or so they say.

But what's the use of
Intelligent minds
When they're not used?
We waste our life away
(By our parent's standards, anyway)
Doodling in class,
Blasting music, writing poems
Rushing work at the last minute
Study only when we really,
Really need to
(While secretly surfing the net
On our phones, of course.)

We steal money,
Sneak out in the afternoon
Go shopping
To satisfy our miscellaneous whims.
Gossip about the other girls,
Calling them stupid, ******, *****.
Complain about the teachers,
And high-five each other,
Wishing good luck in
Scraping past for exams.

We spill our sorrows
About overbearing parents
About the **** in life
With that angry glint
In our eyes.

How ironic.
I'm the kind of kid
My parents warn me about.

Due next Thursday?
No problem!
I'll start
The day before.

Tossing and turning
Heavy breathing,
Tears of frustration.

Screaming at my brain
To dismiss, erase, forget
All memories of you.

But it rebels
Like a stubborn teenager
It eyes me
In a huff, says,
"No!"
And proceeds to
Replay
Those moments
Over and over again.

My exasperation
Soon turns into
Sadness, despair, misery
Knowing that
It's all gone.

Forgetting you
Why can't it be easy?
Like how dried leaves
Are swept by the breeze
Into the river
And float away to
The point of no return.

Feeding myself
Thoughts of how
It's hopeless
Just doesn't work.

Her heart shattered
From all the hatred built up
Inside.

I roam
These empty hallways
Tread on broken glass
That reflects you
And the little moments
I treasure so much.

I use my hands
Those which slipped into yours so perfectly
Like a puzzle piece
To pick up those shattered pieces.
They're scratched
By the sharp edges
That pierce my skin.

I carry those wisps of memories
in my arms
Those I used to wrap around you
In warm embrace.
They're ******,
Cut by the glass
Pressed against them.

I roam these empty hallways
Trying to
Collect memories,
Both good and bad.
But inside,
I hope that
Maybe,
Just maybe
I'll find you too,
Roaming these empty hallways
Picking up the
Fragments of us.

She was
An illusion
Of delusion.

I want people to understand,
Yet I refuse to explain.

Fearing
Judgement
Criticism
Mockery,

She zipped her mouth,
Sewn it shut,
And never did she
Utter a word again.

All that's left
Are old exercise books
And
Fading memories.

I'm so sorry.

For avoiding you,
Ignoring you.

Feeling jealous
When you talk to other girls.
Yet not bothering
To make the first move.

When I do,
I'm sorry
If I appear clingy.

I'm not good enough for you.

But I wonder,

Does all this matter to you?

Sorry, for disturbing you.

Satisfied smirk on my face,
I revel
In your misery.

When I like a song
I'll play it a hundred thousand times
And when that's done,
I'll avoid it like the plague,
Skipping it on my iPod.

When I like a craft
I'll put my all in it,
And when that's done,
I'll slowly lose interest,
Finding another hobby.

I'm fickle-minded
Can't make up my mind,
Jumping from one thing
To the next.

That's why
I've never told you that
I love you.

Just like the sun,
He burst
Into fiery red flames.

You

Whose thoughts
I yearned to know back then.

Whose prolonged gaze
Would make me blush, in those days.

You

Whom I never got to say goodbye to.

You

Whose path
I hope to cross again, one day.

I may have moved on,
But I'll never forget you.

The most mysterious letter
Out of the 26 in the alphabet.

Students rack their brains
To find the value of x in math,
Pirates hunt viciously
For that treasure,
At the place marked "X".

It's such an
Enchanting
Enigmatic
Letter.

A twinkle in its eye,
Playful smirk on it's face,
Never to be found.

I guess
I could liken you
To the letter X.

There are times
Like now
When I don't feel like
Spinning poems
Extracted from my
Many thoughts.

Instead
I let my thoughts
Roam free
In my mind.
Of love, of life,
Of heartbreak, of hatred,
They stay as sentence fragments
I repeat to myself
Over and over
Until
They're ready
To be
Written.

She would
Build walls around herself,
A thousand feet tall.
"Don't trust,
Don't let anyone near,"
She told herself.

But sometimes
She would soften up.
Tear down the walls
And let others in.  

Only to be left,
To be betrayed.
So she would construct them again,
But destroy it soon after.

It was a cycle,
Building walls and then tearing them down,
Over and over again.

She would
Carefully apply her makeup
Everyday.
Do her best to look good.

People would say she was vain.

But the truth was,
She wasn't.

Neither was she trying to
Be pretty and popular.
Neither was she trying
To attract the jocks.

She wanted
To be noticed
By the loner, the nerd,
Whose face
Was buried in his books.

I have no secrets
For success.
Only that
Of destruction.

I want someone
Who can read my eyes
And communicate with them
So that we can share jokes
From across the room
Or alert each other
During emergencies.

I want someone
Who can differentiate my smiles.
Real ones, fake ones
So that even when everyone else
Is fooled,
You won't be.

I need someone
Who can understand
That I'm a complicated,
Contradictory person.
That I may blow hot and cold
But in the end
I'll still love you.

Dull eyes
Dark under-eye rings
Dazed look.

She was tired,
But sleep,
Not even a weekend's worth of it,
Could cure her tiredness.

For she felt hopeless,
Driven to desperation.

Does it make us
Shallow
To read Divergent, Hunger Games
Or The Mortal Instruments?

Does it make us
Shallow
To listen to the latest pop hits,
Whatever's on the radio?

Does it make us
Shallow
To drink Starbucks or Koi,
And post pictures of it?

Does it make us
Shallow
To wear dresses, heels
And girly accessories?

Because I don't think it being shallow means liking popular things.

I try to resist.
I'm not giving in to the temptation
Of going back to you again.

You're standing there
Arms seemingly open
Warm smile on your face.

But I know I can't.
I'll come off as clingy, needy,
Desperate.

So I repeat to myself
In the head,
"You can live without him."

Why am I doing this?
Because I know
You'll take my heart
And throw it forcefully onto the ground,
Making it shatter
Into a thousand pieces
Irreparably broken.

Everyone assumes that
Us elite students in top schools
Are hardworking,
Morally upright people.
That we breeze through our work
And live life with a bright smile.

That's what they think.

They don't see
Our late nights, rushing assignments.
Copying each others' work hurriedly in the morning.
Feelings of inferiority, anger and jealousy consume us daily.

We're nothing more
Than ordinary people
Put on high pedestals.