raindrops are falling on me
i almost trip on my feet
from how hard i'm running
i try to dodge the bullets
coming at me
one by one
as if someone's playing golf and doesn't know what they're doing

i am this tiny being of insignificance
yet i am moving as if i am a whole substance of meaning
i know they won't catch me
yet i act as if they will

i hide in closets
when no one's looking
and i keep running
when no one's chasing

paranoia or insecurity?
both things are larger than life
they encapsulate me
they trap me in a bottle
when i am free
and i willingly
enter the prison
holding the key
i refuse to go out
because will hardly comes by
and motivation is sleeping
i try
but persistence only knocks at the door
and doesn't come in

Life has met twilight and dawn
while i remain trapped in this echoing hall
doom and shame, they keep me company
and the night cuddles me close

we are best friends
in this sunny morning
where grass is growing
and flowers are singing
the wind is laughing
and the trees are dancing
to the melody of a song
my brain is playing

i lay on my coffin
and watch myself struggle to breathe
three feet away
i have dug my own grave

reality still hasn't dawned on me
that this is of my own doing
i guess
when you're so used to seeing darkness
that's all you want to see

my feet hurts from running
from running to and away
from the twigs and stones on the path
from the memories of the past
from the harsh wind of reality.

my feet hurts from running
from running in dark tunnels
of thoughts and things
better stay hidden.

my feet hurts from running
from running away from ink that sloshes on paper
and harsh lines replacing letters.

my feet hurts from running
i'm not running
my footsteps are fading into the space
of clogged arteries
and twisted veins from trying to keep
from running,
i should stop running.

pacing, pacing, pacing
walking around eggshells
tiptoeing around broken glass shards
of what is and
what is now.

now is reality,
today i start walking to my destiny
facing head-on trucks with blaring music of
THIS IS THE END trying to run me over.

my feet are hurting
from staying planted on the cement floor
as trucks try to run me over
and crows perch on branches
waiting to feed on my carcass
and my feet are hurting,
from finally realising that this is how it should be.

There are handwritten love letters sewn in the lines of his palms and lips imprinted in the back of his hands.
The callouses of his hands used to be a home to a girl that came before you.
His bedsheets may still smell of her perfume and his heart may still be filled with trinkets of their memories together.
Her picture may be on his plastered on his walls.
But you should know that you will be the only one capable pulling him out of his misery and that houses can be rebuilt and memories can be rewritten.
You can't erase the past but you can write over them with the present.
If he pulls away from your hug, don't shed a tear on his stupidity. He's still trying to get over his first love. And that's never an easy feat.
But darling, once he learns how much of a catch you are,
He'll paint you in hues of red because he can't stop thinking about the way your tongue drew out all of his pain that one night he made love to you and called out her name.
You're gonna hurt and you might still be hurting. But stars shine brightest in the dark and I promise you that you're he's only light.
He will realize that your breath smells like sunshine and that your skin is made of galaxies and that he shouldn't let you go.
There will be celebrations in heaven whenever your hands meet his and angels will sing both of you to sleep.
In the meantime, you have to keep scraping off her voice in his ears and the promises she pressed on his wrists. You have to keep telling him stories of your family and ****** him outside where the sun is.
But when the day comes and you realize that you wasted your time, just remember how he caressed all your worries away from your head. Remember the words he traced on your skin that one night he made love to you and you cried and told him I love you. He was telling you he'll be a home to all of your dreams
And that he loves you, too.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I don't have a flat stomach and slim thighs.
I'm sorry I don't have a slender waist and an unblemished face.
I don't have silky hair and smooth skin.
I don't have green eyes or blue or the sparkle of mischief.

But I do have arms that can hold you for long hours of time and hands that will stroke your back as you cry.
I have eyes that will hold yours for a long time until your gaze falls away from the weight of my stare.
I have feet that will lead you out of the dark and I have lips that will tell you all the reasons why you're the one.
I have ears that will listen to your nags and rants.
My wrists will hold your pulse home and my heart will beat in time with yours.
My life will only exist with you in it and galaxies will be our best friends when people realize they're not of our caliber - because we can see things that others can't. And we feel things others don't even know exist.

I may not be perfect in the eyes of the society but baby,
You will be in mine.

if you see storms
hiding beneath my irises,
blow them away for me. please.

if you see stars
stuck in between the creases of my palms,
bottle them in a jar for me. please.

if you see jards of broken glass
twined with strands of my hair,
take them out for me. please.

but please don't hurt yourself
while trying to save me.
if you think you're about to fall,
please stop yourself.

i am a hurricane waiting to happen.
and that there are secrets hiding in the
creases of my lips as i smile
don't hold me accountable for
the loss that has not yet been found

they're not in the words i have yet to say
nor in the laughter i have yet to produce

they say music is both a prosecutor and a defender.
i have not decided which of those i am but in the meantime,
*let's pretend this never happened

you see, you're only ever concerned when there's something wrong with me. you wouldn't do anything when i never said a word but daddy, i am screaming in the silence that is looming over this family and i wanted so badly for you to help me but you only ever do anything when i go off on the deep end and that's when your superman senses kick in and try to hold me.
i'm sorry. i'm quick to let go of your grasp now because i know this never lasts and it will only come back to haunt me if i
held on to you. what a mistake trusting
people was. i knew this would happen. that is why i was so afraid to speak up and tell you what was wrong in fear of you judging me and that was what happened. ha, you see, i'm quite smart too; i knew this would happen. but why does it still hurt me? twice in a row and i'm still not used to it.
i have got to ******* get used to this.

there are words in my mouth that are clawing at the back of my throat and are wanting to get out
i try so hard to push them back in but my saliva were never as strong as the sea that pushed back
my fears and longing, longing for change became my company. sadness became my muse and i tried to paint her as best as i could with the pen that i hold in between my fingers and told a
story i've never told a soul, no, they wouldn't understand.
suffering only exists to those who have never met the one.
the funny thing is, i shook his hand and he pulled
me in. of course, white was never my style of clothing.
like lucifer i fell. having bigger dreams than my sanity could ever be, it tried to grow wings to accommodate it.
there are repressed feelings inside of me that are pounding the walls of my chest and they might just break them in.
i hear stomping.
the stomping foot of the police that came to arrest me: "Ma'am, your house has been sold" well, home was never a home to me! prison was what it was called. imprisoned by
my own demons and they were so happy, happy, happy.
joyful things didn't exist but when you took me in and smiled and told me "You're beautiful, my daughter. You can make it" it was quickly replaced by a frown that marred my face when you put me back
in the four walls that haunted me. my bedroom was a constant lover to my pain. the bathroom and i had a friends-with-benefits relationship and it worked for a while
watching me bleed the darkness out of my soul, it drank whiskey and sang me songs filled with sorrow
that fueled the pain and the hatred and everything swirling inside those pill bottles i found at the medicine cabinet i was looking for for days, i dumped it
and all of its remains in the trash because it gave me nothing.
i needed it quick. and painless. because i was tired of this pain that was hitting my right on the cheek.
bleach became a second option and i swear i can still taste the chemicals on my tongue and the smell of acid filling my lungs. i can still feel the sting it left on my skin as it kissed every available opportunity, every single
surface of my mind screamed DEATH and it was painted with your blood that you shed when you died on the cross and i thought: this is it.
it has finished. and that all of this suffering will be no more and i can call your arms home and listen to you sing me to sleep as your sweet voice reassured me that i was safe
safety was never been fond of me and my parents thought it was all a joke.