I pick me,
I choose me,
I love me.

I am not what you have made out of me in your head at 2 am when you were thinking about the very specific way I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm not a fact that states that I'm a very expressive person. Trust me when I say you don't want to know how I would express my thoughts of you, so don't try to define my lines when they aren't very clear, not even to me.

take your time
in grieving for the
gone and dead,
but don't forget to
bury and release
afterwards.

she is the happiest girl
on the playground,
when the hurt is the
most in her heart,
blood flows through
her veins,
but so does a brutal reality,
her kidneys ran out
of tears,
so laughter is the
only thing that pours
out of her.

put a top coat
on the pain,
perhaps
mattify it,
don't let it
reflect on you.

you broke me
until your insecurity screamed, "Ah, see, imperfections!",
because only then you could love me,
even loved me more than
the way you hung on your trauma,
even when i had all the right remedies for your pain

ready to give it all up,
ready to let you go,
when did it become so easy?

words keep on repeating
their echo fails to leave
this is the frequency
my thoughts are on,
thoughts please stop.

Embrace me with a smile,
embrace me with a hug.

Embrace me with your prescence,
and i'll embrace you ,
with the memories we had,
before the last time we had embraced goodbye.

you look at
him like
he doesn't
deserve her,
just because
you want her.

I exhaled the last breath,
And i felt like my soul was about to leave.

Because with every breath, the air becomes harder to inhale each time.

Thought number one.
I need to stop overthinking.

Thought number two.
I need to stop thinking about overthinking.

Thought number three.
I am thinking about not thinking.

Thought number four.
Thinking hurts. Not thinking hurts. Overthinking hurts. Everything hurts.

I promise myself peace and serenity,
yet I strike at the first glance of a storm,

I think I know who I am,
but then doubt enters my heart
at the first introduction of confusion,

I prepare myself for the worst,
forgetting that good even exists,
like an infant,
believing that the sun has really disappeared
when it's just hiding behind a cloud

I hope that when you make a list of all of your favourite things, I’m somewhere on the top of your list.

I've been loving
the colour blue lately,
maybe a little too much,
because that's what I feel too.

A boy bought me new feelings from Amazon,
I couldn't install them right,
so I gave them a 1-star rating.

this mind grew tired
of feelings of helplessness,
this body cannot endure
the pain,
these hands can no longer
afford to tremble in weakness,
these lungs involuntarily
pump life into me
as these years slowly
escape from thy
inward eyes.

we need
to be
careful,
when it's me
and you,
it's infinity
and beyond,
and we want
to settle
here,
in each others''
arms.

they get tantalized
by the way your wings
still flutter even when broken,
like you're some sort of
art to be appreciated in
a museum,
but not one to hold onto
and let their hearts inspired by,
your strength and independence
terrify those who offer nothing
and expect everything in return.

It seems that
I like that
I can't have you,
but when the
challenge is over,
so are my wants.

my heart’s so fragile;
i’m afraid to give it away,

all that’s left of me is
a sarcastic personality,
and even that is
starting to fade.

i am the uneven eyeliner on the face of life

They say the world is becoming a better place, proven in that happy people are becoming happier. Nobody seems to want to mention that sad people are becoming more sad too, so isn't that original statement a little underrepresenting? How is the world being a better place even a good thing? Doesn't that also mean that the world is a bad place to begin with, and it becoming less negative doesn't take away from the fact that it's still negative, I mean, otherwise why am I still sad? Why isn't the sadness going away? Is it merely because of my existence or is it more about my presence in this sort of world? Even if the world was neutral, it would only be so because the disparity between those who are happy and those who are sad is growing. Then what is the solution, you may be wondering? Can't one's happiness grow without someone else's shrinking? The truth is that everyone pays a price- some pay it through alienation from others, and others by alienating themselves.

if you think
that you really
know who you are,
it most likely means
that you don't,
your body isnt
the only thing
that ages,
your experiences
grow bigger,
you're like sand
on a beach,
waiting for the wind
to pick your next
residence,
and it's all
too random.

You gift me gold,
bringing back old habits,
remember though that
I never aimed for the stars
nor the way they shine,

I wear the gold around my neck,
with no sparkles in my eyes,
wishing it was silver instead,

you see;
gold bends and stretches,
but silver reflects and deflects,
it can handle reality,
even when things heat up.

my thoughts shiver
because ive gotten
sick to my stomach
from all the mess
inside my heart

Grandpa my dear,
a few years when I was younger you'd let me sit on your lap and you would call me cute nicknames.

a few years after when i grew a bit older, you'd get me sweets and we would compare our heights , but you've always been taller.

a few years when i was your height, and we shared the same weight. But oh what a coincidence and i wondered.

I remember the sweets you used to give me, I remember the love you used to provide me.

I remember how I used to hit you in my sleep when i was younger, because I used to move alot in my sleep. ( I still do)

But what I dont remember is, every imagining you ending up like this?

The time has betryaed you and you are no longer as healthy as the young are, and i cant imagine but i can realize, that youve grown weaker. But stronger too, in the same time. Because you are a survivor, and you will stay alive for us, because you are all what's left for us and we're all what's left for you, and i know that one day my kids will get to hear your stories about the life back your time.

Yesterday night,
as I was crossing the
bridge of the past,
your name was
barely floating underneath,
I looked at it as it was
half submerged,
half breathing,
and my hand didn't reach out for it,
instead, it reached out for my heart,
listened to its beats,
they said walk to the end of the bridge,
and I did,
my hand reached for my hair and cut
two strands to make a ribbon to tie the past,
you loved my hair after all,
didn't you?

Happiness was always plural in my mind,
there had to be a he, a she or they,
but as time passed,
I grew to learn that
happiness is a singular ' I '.

it seems that i gave you happiness,
all of it,
all of the happiness in the world,

even the little bit that belonged to me..

tears drip from my eyes
while a laugh escapes
from my mouth,
this isn’t sadness,
this isn’t joyousness,
this comes from knowing
that people leave,
life makes you go through changes,
yet my poor heart
keeps on hurting.

hard to aim
for the stars
when you’re
already so
high up in the sky,

hard to get out
of this comfort zone
when all i had
known is anything
but that,

hard to be yourself
around someone new
when the past is
constantly haunting you.

I looked
at my heart
asking it,

how is it possible
that I can love again?

and my heart's
only response
was a beat,

turns out that
all along
I had been breaking
because I was still alive,
my body was fighting
for me,
even when it felt
like I was dying.

I can still feel
your cheeks
pressed against mine,
your eyes locked on mine,
your heart beat as you
lay on my chest,
your hands caressing
my face,
my heart wanting to burst,
except this time
it's because
you are gone.

I held scissors between my hands yesterday's night,
I cut a heart out of cardboard,
gave it a shower,
tucked it to bed,
sang to it a couple beats
and buried it in my chest.

hey you,
here’s a palace just for you
with all your favourite rights,
here’s a place for you to live,
to love, to learn, to fall, to grow,
here’s a sunset for you to turn into poetry,
and a sunrise to brighten your skies,
here’s someone for you to care for,
here’s someone who can hold onto all the feelings on your shoulders,
here’s an ocean for your thoughts to rest in,
here’s a breeze to remind you of the thick skin you have on which those goosebumps have formed,
here’s a nest of butterflies in your tummy for a change of scenery of all the imperfections you store inside of you,
here’s a shooting star to distract you from the darkness of the world and for you to look up to,
here’s your weight to hold you down to earth to keep you humble,
here’s a melody for you to reminisce on,
here’s a heart beat to help inspire you always.

I told you that you should always be
thankful, things are getting
better, the process
is just rather slow,

and I told you that the proof lies
in the fact that you still have some
sanity left today,
if things weren't getting better,
then what else
could you be holding onto?

I wish I can go back home,
borrow a blanket from the living
room that was once filled with
me and my cousins' dancing,

gather four ****** from the street,
the same street I used to steal flowers from,
that now steals people's blood and lives,

borrow a branch or two from the berry tree
that my mom used to make juice out of
and give to our neighbours,
they only reside in my head now,

build a tent in my parents' backyard,
the same backyard where
I held my 6th birthday party at,
that birthday had to end early as
there was a more important event happening;

the Americans were bombing
the area I used to run so free in,
with all of my friends,
whom I never got to say goodbye to,
never get to see how puberty hit them,
or even know if they're still alive today,

today,
I live under a stable roof,
I run away from the thought of home,
because it kills me that
I left the land that once
gave birth to me,
kept me warm,
warmer than I would personally like,
once.

Am I upset?
No, I don't think so.

I think the best way to describe how I feel towards you right now
is to buy a ******* useless vase, instead of adding it to the rest of your collection of useless stuff down in the basement, use it as a decoration, give it life and purpose and make a pretty flower grow in it, every now and then water it, clean the mess it makes, heck-- even take selfies with it. Next, I want you to unwillingly do the following:
put this vase on an ad on Craig's list, give it for free to someone who is on the same continuum of uselessness. Done? ok, now go break that ******* vase. What? You can't? It's not yours anymore? How does THAT feel? Do you feel upset? Angry? Confused? No, you feel helpless. Well now you know how your friendship feels like and what your friendship means. Not cool. We aren't cool. Don't make me break you, it won't fix you into becoming someone I need.

I'm falling through
the cracks in the ground,
the ground beneath me has never been stable,
but sometimes,
after a cry or two,
I become a Bamboo plant,
turns out I don't need the light as much as I need to cry.

how can you love someone
and trust in them,
when you only carry love
for anyone but for yourself,
because you don't trust
in you,
and you can't love you.

this heart of mine
grows simultaneously
weaker and stronger,
you see,
every time I try to
explain myself,
it flourishes,
but when
my voice is taken
for granted,
it withers away.

I forgot
how much
this hurts,
how as much
as happy
a special
someone can
make you, as
sad too.

Hurt,
is not a feeling,
but rather a process,
it’s wanting to burst out
in laughter when you fall
for the same trap twice,
and shedding tears
when you least expect it,
it’s being able to experience
emotions that you thought you had lost
touch of, sight of,
it’s looking at yourself
in the mirror
and loving the broken
version as much as the healed one.

he said that this doesn't change anything,
that he doesn't love me any less,

except there was a change,
this time around I broke my own heart,
and for that I loved myself less.

I* wept,
till my eyes were dry,
and I could feel no more.

In a statment of ,
complete numbness,
I layed in bed,
in hours,
for days,
s a d.

I wiped,
away the tears.
And my feelings ,
wouldn't stop ,
reminding me.
And those memories,
wouldn't stop,
chasing me.
And I couldn't just,
let go.

for i am a rose
blooming with the
colour of my blood
and thorned by
the wars i’ve battled,

for i am a rose,
with skin so thick,
even when it sheds petals,
there lies more strength,

for i am a rose,
placed with another
for the ones who want it all,
and preserved in my individuality
for the ones who look for the one,

for i am a rose,
climbing my way out with
eyes on the stars and feet on the ground.

i am the best
version of myself
when i am comfortable
surrounded by my loved ones
and knowing there are no time restrictions

I am happy,
But why is that those tears wont stop falling?

It's the right thing,
But why is that it doesn't feel like so?

I am strong,
But why is it that I need to be strong?

I should not feel this way,
But why is it that my feelings have become so bipolar ?

It's bravery,
But why is it that I feel it's an act of fear instead?

I am not oblivion no more,
But why is it that i feel there is much behind every path?

I fear failure,
But why is that I feel that it is a fear of success?

I should enjoy the moment,
But why is it that my brain cant comprehend to happiness no more?

I look at you,
and wish that I could feel like I need you,
but I don't,
and that hurts because
it's never easy to walk away
from someone you're supposed to love.