how do
i cure
my depression:

𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬

the government
is not
your enemy
but
yourself

Lost in the midst of oblivion,
writings on the walls
are depiction of excruciation
I condoned,
with this question
clawing on my tongue:

"𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴,
𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯?"

The devil in my mirrors
has its beguiling wings,
now slowly burning
for I found my angel.

Cherish the scar
that once puzzled
you to believe.

Cherish the scar
that once vexed
you to forgive.

Cherish the scar
that once broke
your heart.

Cherish the scar
that once ripped
you apart.

Cherish the scar
that once was
your haven.

Cherish the scar
for you to take
the risk again.

A beautiful victim
of poisonous greed,
hurt, *****, abused
but was known to be
a monstrous villain.

mourning
on the
morning sun

just a month
of a
newly year

already
a lot of
painful memories
has come

Most days, I want to get away.
Most day I do not know what to say.
Still, I try.
Sometimes I even
do too much.
The line is always blurred to me.
Maybe that is why I am always
crossing it.
I respect people's boundaries.
The biggest problem;
I do not respect my own.
I give,
a lot.
There are some pieces of me
I will never get back.
They say you live and you learn.
I would like to say that the lessons are
sticking.
And as that big hand keeps on
ticking-

I realize that there is,

still,


so much time.

If I die, tonight
don't cry,
pick the petals off a rose
and throw the thorns
at my doorstep
with your lies,
how could you tell them
I was important
to you,
when you were not there
when I needed
you the most?

If I die, tomorrow
don't follow,
this is my way
of giving up to the world
that has already
given up to me,
how could you show
those tears,
when you were not there
when I tried to resist
the fears?

If I die, yesterday
don't believe,
I have already died
a thousand times
before you knew
this cold flesh
is in my grave,
how could you find
solace in memories,
when you left me
in the church today?

Words are trapped
in the unfathomable
depth of this mind.

Solitude then came
along this pale
moonlit night.

Ink of this pen
could no longer
unfold its mysteries.

Hope to find peace
on the funeral
of my poetry.