I'm afraid to stand out
And be different.
What if I look odd?
What if I'm judged?

I'm afraid of using big words,
Even though they sound beautiful.
What if I use it wrongly?
I'll be thought of as a fool.

Most of all,
I'm afraid
Of telling you
That I love you
Everyday.

It's meant to be a cute,
Sweet gesture.
A way of
Reminding you
You're the best thing
In my life.

But what if
It slowly becomes a mere routine for me?

Worse still,
What if
One day
Your reply is,
"I don't, anymore."?

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?

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.

His eyes
Were bedazzling.
Sparkling,
Electric blue.

My heart
Would skip a beat
Whenever
I looked into them
And he
Looked back at mine.

One day
Our eyes met, yet again.
This time,
It lasted longer,
My heart was beating faster.

And suddenly
It stopped.

I cannot compare
Your swift actions
To the cool breeze.

I do not have the
Linguistic abilities
To describe your eyes
As the epitomes of beauty
I could get lost in.

I cannot fathom
How others
Can so gracefully
Liken your hair
To the rustling wild grass.

But I can whisper
To you
Over and over again,
"I love you."

I don't care if you
Throw sticks
Or stones
Or grenades.
You won't hurt me,
I'll pick myself up.

I don't care if you
Call me stupid
Or ugly
Or a failure, a disappointment.  
You won't hurt me,
I'll shut it all out.

I don't care if you
**** a frog
Or rob the bank
Or starve for days.
I won't bat an eyelid,
That's what others' did to me.

I have been made
Cruel and heartless
By this warped, greedy world.

If it won't affect me,
I won't care.

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

Distance
Is not just about being miles apart.

Distance
Can be about
Being a road away from each other
Yet never having the chance to meet.

Distance
Is not just about different time zones.

Distance
Can be about
Chatting online everyday
But replying with only "yes", "no", or "k".

Distance.
It hurts more
When you're so near
Yet so far.

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.

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.

Why are all the beautiful things
In the world
Ephemeral?

They're short lived,
Here today and
Gone tomorrow.

Just like a beautiful flower.
That lives for only a day
Before disappearing,
Disintegrating,
Blown away
By wisps of the wind.

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

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.

She tried to fit in.

But she did it too well and ended up blending in with the black and white background, unnoticed amongst the vibrant, colourful individuals in the crowd.

So maybe she didn't do that good a job of fitting in.

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.

We were like a beautiful glass vase
Until one day
The hammer of Lies
Broke the vase
And tore us apart.

All that was left were
Fragments
Little pieces of memories
Sights, smells, sounds.

I tried picking up the pieces
And gluing them back together
But I never succeeded.

For the fragments were there
But the little shards
Were swept away by
The wind.

I'm sorry
For feeding you with lies
For breaking our trust.

I wish I had never done that
That I could turn the clock back.
But I can't.

Now we never talk.
We don't even say hi.
And it's killing me
Inside.

I saw you walk past me
In the hallway today.
I turned my head back
To see you,
My eyes filled with longing.

Surprisingly,
You turned back too.
But just as my hopes went up
I saw
Your cold, unforgiving
Glare.

It makes me feel
Lightheaded and fluffy
And makes my cheeks
Turn bright red
To think of my hand
In yours.

It's such a unique gesture,
Holding hands.
So intimate
Yet innocent.

Our hands will fit perfectly
Our fingers interlocked
Like the right pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

My heart will beat faster
Your cheeks will turn redder
And we will feel so much closer
To each other.

Your grasp will be so tight
It'll be impossible to let go.
Just like having the world
On my fingertips,
Literally.

"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 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.

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.

Her sadness
Was not beautiful,
Neither was it poetic.

Rather
It was a kind of desperation
Hopelessness,
That would scare others away.

And that's why she hid it behind a weak smile.
That's why she'd never tell.

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.

She was
An illusion
Of delusion.

When I was young
I imagined myself
Riding dragons that breathed purple fire,
Discovering a tree that grew all kinds of fruit,
And living for a thousand years.

Then I grew up
And learnt about fashion and popularity.
I imagined
And yearned
To be the prettiest and most popular,
To catch the eyes of the cutest boy,
To have the most followers on Instagram.

Nowadays, though,
Such wishes no longer exist.
Instead,
I imagine myself
Jumping off a building,
Ending up with broken bones and severe loss of blood,
Or drinking lethal poison
That will freeze up my blood.
I imagine myself dying,
And oh,
How I wish it would
Come true.

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

The world is
One huge
Jigsaw puzzle.

Everyone is a puzzle piece.
And just like how
Every puzzle piece is unique,
How the puzzle would be incomplete
Should even just one piece go missing,
Everyone on earth is unique,
And the world would be incomplete
Without any one person.

Except me, of course.
I'm merely
An extra piece.

What will it be like
To kiss you?

Will it be
Romantic
Your soft lips
Pressed against mine
Our eyes closed
Savouring the moment
Arms wrapped around each other
The epitome of perfection.

Or will it be
Hot and passionate
My back against the wall
Our bodies pressed tightly against each other
Your tongue in my mouth,
And mine, in yours
As my hand gets entangled in your hair
And yours, stroking my skin.

Will I experience an eruption of
Emotions, feelings?
Will it leave me wanting more?

Well,
There's only one way to know.

"Oh my gosh, you're so lucky!"
She said to the one who received so much praise for her work.
Hiding the fact that
She was feeling pure jealousy
For not getting noticed herself.

"I totally ship you two,"
She teased her friend who was crushed on by a boy.
Hiding the fact that
Deep down, she wished that
Someone would think she was beautiful too.

She was too used to this routine
Of using fake laughter and weak smiles
To conceal her glares,
Gritted teeth,
And tears.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

Cloaked in black
And sparkly purple sequins,
Waving his magic wand in the air.
He performs
In front of one crowd
After another.

The audience gasp in awe
As he pulls a rabbit
Out of his top hat.
People wonder,
"How does he do it?"
When he performs yet another card trick.

Finally the show is over.
The magician stands on the stage, alone,
Getting ready for his next act.
Magic,
It may seem mystical for the ordinary person,
But to the magician,
It's an everyday thing.

I'm not a masterpiece churner.

You can't expect me
To sketch out
Expressive eyeball
After expressive eyeball.

You can't expect me
To finish colouring
My drawing
In an hour-long art lesson.

You can't expect me
To come up
With in idea
In five minutes.

I take my time.

But as they say,
Good things come
To those who wait.

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.

"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."

"Sweet dreams,"
My parents would say before we went to bed.

If only.
For my dreams
Were nightmares
Grotesque, twisted monsters
Would run after me
In a dimly-lit forest
Only to have
A car come by suddenly
And run over me
Causing my organs to burst
And blood to stain the ground.

They said,
"May your dreams come true!"
Forgetting that
Nightmares
Were dreams too.

She no longer
Imagined them
Kissing, cuddling on the couch
One day.

She no longer
Waited anxiously
For him to reply to her message
Sent an hour ago.

She no longer
Spilt her secrets and feelings to him.
Expose her other side.
She kept it all in.

For she knew
He had left.
Just like everyone else.

She no longer cared
About him.
She tried not to,
Anyway.

Oh, ocean
Take me away
Envelope me in your waves
Wash me away from the shore.

Freeze me
Numb my pain
Let me drown
In your vastness.

Let me sink
To the bottom of the ocean.

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.

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

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.

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.

They called him
A problem child.
"Failure."
"Disappointment."
"Good for nothing."

And so these words
Stuck with him
Formed his identity
Shaped his character.

Until one day
He couldn't take it anymore
So he jumped off a building
And all his problems
Seemed to vanish.

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

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}

Lately
I've been asking myself
This question:
Do I still love you?

Yes,
My heart still skips a beat
Whenever your name flashes on the screen.
My cheeks still turn red
Whenever our eyes meet.
My lips still curve into a smile
Whenever I think about you,
Which I do.

But do I actually love you?
Or do I simply miss
The memories,
The good times we've had?
Am I holding on to nothing?

Unfortunately
(Or is fortunately?)
I don't know the answers
To these questions.

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.