I wanted my last poem be a tribute to my girlfriend.
I am no longer going to write on hellopoetry.
I've said it a few times before but could never find myself saying goodbye properly; but this time I'm making the effort.
Goodbye everyone, I love you all.

Go do amazing things Liz, I believe in you. Remember, life is more than just people's words and judgements, don't let people tell you what you can or can't do. You write from such raw emotions, I want you to know I think your writing is beautiful. Don't let your past dictate your future, it's not the shadows that show us where to go, but the light ahead of us.


Rachel: don't ever give up writing, just know I'll always read your poems.

Jo; don't forget it I'm proud of you. I've seen you be strong little football star, so I know you are strong.

Lere; I know we've been a little distant but you got life handled little bro, keep staying strong.

Wardha; I know stressful moments feels like they come more often than they go away but I'm certain that one day you'll find moments where stress, sadness all dissipates. I hope you find it but for now all I can say is I thank you for being my friend.

And Delilah: you are amazing in so many ways and you should really see yourself through my eyes one day, keep fighting, you know I'm cheering you on from afar, you know I'm always a message away- don't give up, life is so much more. Hang in there dee. I am right by your side whenever you need me

Goodbye

Ever since I met her, I felt like I've been living in a fantasy world
where pearls are found on land, diamonds are bound to our hands
and the passing of the sands seems all too quick for me and her.
I have dreamed of a love like this, a love that keeps me up at night
not from fright nor fear of what may come in the darkness
but the way an artist envisions his paintings and drawings walking,
talking behind each hidden smile and each following eye
I felt like I've leapt on the canvas and painted exactly what I wanted.
This girl, she makes me scared, makes me happy, makes me sad,
not the bad kind of sad but sad to ever think about disappointing her,
the blur in memories are filled in with moments where her smile is visible,
like a mythical creature; I can not believe such a beautiful girl exists.
Betwixt the sunrises and sunsets, I've seen my share of happiness,
my life is one happy mess and it's thanks to that one angel.

My starshine, may we be together forever in time,
I love you always and forever; whichever one of those is longer,
and each day I grow stronger with nothing but the thoughts of you.
So because of you, I am happy again...but also scared.

Scared...because I'm scared I may never ever love again,
unless that person was you.

Happy valentines day beautiful.

We live in a world where some choose to sit idle by
as a cry for help is silenced by an obsession with wealth,
as mental health concerns suffers the silent treatment
and reason categorises wounds and scars to visible marks.
Sometimes the marks are visible, the physical projection of pain,
the doctors deem them fixable, as if the pain ingested
could be cured by a pill or an injection, it's reckless
to assume pain from a broken perspective.
It is not effective to judge what should and shouldn't hurt,
sometimes it just hurts, the dirt in a wound waiting to blister
like a twister caught between an earthquake and a tsunami,
an army of different antidepressants swallowed without hesitance,
but sometimes it still hurts. It just hurts.

We live in a world where suicide is one thing countries share in common,
and often we ask ourselves 'do politicians ever think about people?'
The feeble argument between money and lives, as the night
passes its light onto different matters. When a person falls in a forest,
can their cries for help be heard. The muttered words are non existent,
but the persistent debate of what is going to be next in the budget cut,
loses touch on what is really human; 'when are we going to fund the help
that mental health concerns deserve?'.

The children is our key to the future, like candles alighting tomorrow
so why are we letting mental illness blow out the lights.
The children is our key to the future, but what future must we share
if humanly care and compassion is missing from the equation,
a new train station will not provide a shoulder for those who need it,
is human kindness disappearing?
How many more lives must we watch perish?

I am not a book you can put down and pick up when you're up for it,
I am not the chorus of a song, I am the song in its entirety
I will  inspire to be a better person in the name of you,
I would choose to walk to the ends of the universe and pray not to fall,
only to have fallen into an abyss waiting for you,
only to have fallen so far in love with you.

I am like a rolling thunder constantly in movement,
I am human and my human heart is falling apart,
the alarms are ringing in my ears and my tears,
only feels the fear that my shivering hands feel.
I am human and my human heart is beating itself up for you.

I am not a book you can put down on a shelf to collect dust,
I am not the crumbs and crust at the end of what is left of a pizza,
nor am I a people pleaser, I am the embodiment of a raging storm
chose to conform to its environment because fighting a futile fight
is pointless.

I am not an owl awake in the night because I chose to stare at stars,
I am filled with scars that I am hoping the trail of a shooting star could fill,
the night ink drenched on a broken quill, the missing smile,
the living portrayal of denial and a hurting heart.

In my mind we are forever together, in my mind I am holding you,
sober news sounds better than drunk news, the world is safer
the later the hours turn and arm in arm, we are close.
I will always close my eyes and dream of that better life I painted,
even if it is tainted with the wet stains of streaming tears, I close my eyes
painting blue skies with a figure filled with dried eyes where cries
are silenced.
I am still painting, that Disney wedding embedding costumes into mind,
I might be blind but I'll still find my way to your arms, and each scar
is dissipating, the world is levitating on our shoulders
but it doesn't matter.

Please tell me I am still dreaming...because I would rather be dreaming
than imagining...

I am not a book you can put down and pick up when you want,
I am not a picture book with figures erased and faded ink, I am sinking...

I am not a book you can put down so ...please can you come pick me back up?

She lays alone in her high tower castle,
playing pass the parcel by herself, lonesome-
she groans for help, but it never seems to arrive.
Her eyes are fuelled with desire for company-
plagued by puppetry, the puppeteer-
steers her every action, every breath of air taken
is monitored.

She once spent days brushing her silky hair,
known that life was fair and just but time changes-
as a pendulum continues to swing and sway.
The nights played like a recorded noise,
no choice but to stay awake as the beep continues
and the tribute made in honour of her grew larger.

In the multistorey hospital where laid her brush,
the cuts and bruises came to be fixed with care,
but her hair grew thinner and shorter day by day.
In her hospital bed, where she laid asleep-
with ambient beeps, she no longer lays there
as she takes her lonesome stare into the light.

I could live a thousand years
or a million different lives
but not one of them
would mean anything
if I could not live them by your side.

I've ascended a mountain
where the road is narrow;
awaiting an arrow's arrival
as the sun casts a shadow
on a dandelion.

I've set my mind on not
falling for insanity;
though her alluring touch
could cleanse calamities;
I stayed with the sun....

but today seems all the more bleak,
as week after week of argument ensues,
I knew that maybe I would have better off
learn to scoff at newfound things
but those who have loved me once before
do not love me now.

She repeats those words that taunt my soul
'bye star gazer'.
And I will not forgive her for leaving me
when I needed her the most.

Some days I just want to crawl back into bed
lay my head to rest on the pillow that comforts my cries.
I wear a disguise, the strong hearted, thick willed man
but a simple scan of who I am, proves I'm the opposite.
The optimist inside me is losing the battle, rattled
by heartbreak taunts and the gauntlet I once wore
and the pledges I swore held no real strength in guarding me.
The garden seed that was supposed to blossom and bloom
sits as seeds in a shaded room, aided by strong winds
and grinned at the sunlight admiring the caressing lights.
My heart alike, sat behind my ribcage admiring her smile,
admiring her eyes, admiring the thoughts she shared
and bonded pairs led to love but tonight it was different.
Not for a lack of interest but tonight I sat in bed crying
smiling at my pillow that soaked up my tears and comforted me.

Tonight I watched the stars hoping that she would watch them too,
hoping she knew how much I would have given to make her smile,
but the dying light is fading and sun up seems to be approaching fast.
My beating heart seems to beat on, but to what tune does it beat to now?

The past few nights those thoughts seem to haunt me,
taunting the calls of their grips, begging me to hold their hands
but their plans diverge from mine and I've seen their smile
take pleasures in the night like a candle light being blown out.

I'm afraid I'm being blown out, there's more to this world than me,
there's seven billions and many millions of seas, so one loss is small
I love you all but there comes a time when one has to say goodbye
so tonight, I'm urging you to remember that you all are amazing,
that whatever you're facing, I'm sure you'll make it.

Goodbye, may we meet in another life.
Love, your friend - Star Gazer

Fantasies ruins lives like chocolate ruins diets,
the highest ecstasy we inject into our lives,
the night collides with the day and fantasies
are alike planted seeds, they grow and grow
till daytime's glow is invaded by dreams.

Fantasies of the heart, fantasies of the mind
are so unkind like torture and nurture,
like the hard worker and the still idler,
neither would suggest to be perfect or good
but could they be combined, art is formed,
hearts turn warm and work is completed.

Love...is the ****** of human emotion
an ocean of joy but a deeper sea of ache.

I used to laugh at the boys who felt heartbroken or saddened by a girl, I used to think of it as an absurd emotion. I am grown up now, and that kid inside me still wishes I could view such a thing in the same light mannered way, but I can't. I wish I could still laugh at those boys without a few painful memories of my own. I remember the first moments of shyly teasing, pretending that we didn't know what was going on, pretending that neither one of us will grow to develop feelings but I guess that is how the world works nowadays. I remember seeing her smile and it is the only thing that I needed to pick me up from a terrible day, a terrible day dripped off the page like rain of an umbrella, the very moment that I saw her smile. That smile, it's a rare smile, so beautiful and yet so mysterious in a way. I was content with just seeing her smile from cheek to cheek because it meant that she's happy and I guess all I wanted was to make her happy. I remember getting to know her, the more I learnt, the more I was intrigued. Sadly humans are the one beings that aren't living in a simplistic world where dreams are made to come true. I remember dreaming of her, and me, together (not in that sense for those with a slightly dirtier mind), we were together drinking coffee, drinking liquor, playing chase on a beach, watching time pass us by in each others arms.
I remember her name, and it may seem so simple but nothing was ever simple with her. Her name was complex, her personality was complex but it's the complexity that made her stand out. I wandered off a wrong path once or twice but suffice to say I knew which way I always wanted to go, I knew where I always wanted to go and it was right to her arms. In my eyes, there is none other more beautiful, more special and made me feel alive as she did. So although I haven't met her in person, I always knew she would become amazing things, only suitable for an amazing person.

I remember many details about that time of my life, the wounds are still fresh and the memories are still haunting me but that's the good thing about it, I can still remember everything that ever made me smile.

[The girl who made a million of my dreams come true.]

Your absence is the definition of my abject demise
I've covered my eyes in hopes you'll magically appear
but sheer wishful thinking does not change reality,
the agony of opening my eyes every time to realise
that you aren't there seems to sadden my mind.
I find that your presence is the thing I miss
the bliss of your scorched warm differ to the burn
that have returned on my skin from the lack of heat
and day in, it feels like I'm living on repeat.

Your eyes remind me of hopeful dreams like the cream
that settles atop the sweet drinks and sweet things
you are the sweetest person I have ever met
I forget what it was like to hear your voice
to see your beautiful smile that give rise to pure sweetness.

Your absence is the one thing that has hurt me lately,
the safety and comfort I've felt in your arms have dissipated.

So beautiful, can you smile for me again.
I love you and I'm always proud of you.

For a long time coming I have known things weren't going to be easy
the genie isn't going to give wishes like it was candy on halloweens night,
every night I'd lay my head on my pillow and cry for about ten minutes
"it'll be easy soon, isn't it?" I'd ask myself convinced myself to go on
like a parrot repeating the same old song, I said "it'll be easy soon",
and come noon of the next day; I realised it had been a routine,
a living pattern of new scene each stained in the same old ways,
the same old days reliving itself in front of my eyes.

A few nights ago, I tried to **** myself and I did not die,
somewhere, something is keeping me alive and tomorrow
I'm going to stop trying, because trying to die was more exhausting
than trying to live. I made a promise a long time ago to keep going on
and that will be the path I am on.

I am choosing to try to be happy for this year
I'd fought my fears and I'm one new day into my life,
and tonight, I will try my best to invent dreams in my head before I sleep
rather than spent the time in a deep cry, because tonight,
as lights go off and my head hits the pillow, I will be thinking happy thoughts.

I love all of you.
I'm going to keep on going, each and every day.
Until old age rips me away from all of you.

Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting
trying to find a way to make you happy, to brighten your day,
but the lighting is out of place, and I've been facing demons alone.
Teacup, home is everything that's by your side, so don't try to hide,
please don't say goodbye because I'm running out of answers,
the question dances in my mind, how much more can I take
was I one of your mistakes, did I misjudge the situation I'm in.

Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting
trying to find a way to make you smile, even if it's just for a while
I would survive the wild just with the thought of your smile.
Everything positive I have felt, has started with meeting you,
so renew the starting hand we've been dealt and find a new way
to overcome the lightning, the clouds and the thunder.
Bring us closer under the spell of love.

Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting
but I'm losing you and it's scaring me...
I'm fighting but I'm losing you...

I shall meet the man when the time eventually comes
but run to the waves and soar to the seas is how I feel alive.
I've dreamt nights after nights of meeting him once again
but pensive thoughts kept me captured without sleep
and I lay awake with a myriad of promises to keep.
I will cherish the memories, the mistakes, the moments
holding onto each and every box kept open because closure
meant giving up and giving up meant not caring.

I shall meet the man when the time eventually comes
but run from what must be met is something I plan not to do,
I've seen dew drip on mornings of arid days and happy days
moulded together like clay.

I shall meet the man when the time eventually comes
and the sun shall rise as it has always done.

I shall meet my father at the end of my time
and maybe that day, we will play catch for the first time.

Hey, can I tell you something, it's something I've been hiding from you...
I do hope you get a chance to know whats hidden beneath my mask...
It's just so less to ask and so much to think, and I'm blinking the tears.....
away.
Hey, can I tell you something, it's something I've been hiding from you...
I wonder do you ever remember the ways I use to look at you, that smile,
that smile that kept me awake for nights on end...
Hey there beautiful, will you remember me when life decides to take me away...
it's been bothering me so, because I don't know how long left I have to go,
but I know , oh I know that I want you to know...

That you...are everything to me, you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me.

So if the winds, break us up, and if the towers we build our love, just can't stay up...
I hope you know...

that you are everything to me, you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me.

So no matter where I may be or no matter where you may go,
just smile because I know...oh I know...I'll be looking at your smile.

And if the gods won't let us be, and if the sky's decides to drown me,
i hope you know...

I love you every second from the first time I met you.

Show me a field that is filled with golden flowers
hours upon hours the smell of the grass elevates the scents
that seems to send passerbys into an overdrive of envy.
Lend me your hand so that my coarse skin is softened by yours,
the door to my heart is forever open awaiting your entrance
and the defences are fending off other fiends so don't worry about guard
because as hard as it is to trust, I've let my guards down a long time ago.
Show me that you can be the green to my gold
let us grow old but never grow up as we play like kids
let the bliss fill both our hearts as we unite together against the world.
Girl, will you find it in yourself to love me? ...as much as I love you?

You and I have shared words, shown the darkness, the light
and glimpses of bright coloured sky where the truth floats freely.
Though you can not see me, I have felt glimpses of your strength,
the length we've known each other has honestly been short
but thoughts to words, I have come to understand and learnt
that though the sun has burnt, there are moments where that star
wears a seared scar like any other thing that exists within this world.
The waves curl between the shores and the vast amount of water
and like an author you find ways to find words that fit perfectly.
There is certainty in my tone when I say that you will come to find
the gems and stones that blind those who chooses to wear a mask
like a buried flask filled with honesty and pure emotion.

I have been grateful in so many ways for your constant encouragement,
the words you flourish embeds itself into my mind as a constant reminder
to never give up writing like a spider that never gives up designing webs.
I've leapt in joy on numerous occasions to discover new poems of yours
and to learn behind closed doors what an amazing character you possess
only attests to how well you write. You've written diamonds in every line
like a diamond mine but with words.

It's a new year, happy new year.
The introduction of your story is up to how you choose to write it,
you're the writer, the painter, the artist behind the pathways you choose.
I encourage you to keep on writing, to never give up and to stay strong;
it's been a long journey and yet there is so much left unseen.
I've only been your friend for a short while, but I thank you for every moment.

Many nights I have spent wishing you would come back
I'd combat the thoughts of you with numbing substance
pressing random buttons forming words and sentences.
I have mentioned this about you a couple thousand times
"each succeeding line is all written in the presence of her
as the nights bother the days; I've spent minutes dazed,
felt crazed that she would be so far and so distant".
People say time heals all wounds, as if tombs would open up
and frozen hearts would start to roam the Earth once again.
It's all a fantasy, to fantasise a world where time heals wounds
is like repainted rooms would had not once held the colours before,
the pretence and second layer is a covered decor, it's fictitious
to witness the ticking of time and suggest that scars fade,
and part ways are path ways that don't necessarily mean anything.
Times don't heal scars, nor do they properly heal the wounds,
the tunes that once shared between two people in tune still hurt
and words spoken between the two lips and heard by the two ears
are fears of memories still trying to dig itself out of the coffin
buried beneath the passage of time and the belief that everything is okay.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
Time is supposed to heal wounds but I'm consumed by the memories
the Decembers, the Februarys; months go by and the scars are still there
the wounds are still bare to the touch and all I can do is open up
the poison that numbs the feeling.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
They keep telling me time heals all wounds, but the golden minutes
only brings up old memory visits that lead me back to where you lay.
I'd play would you rather with you one more time if I could talk to you,
but time undoes what I couldn't do. Time keeps passing and it's letting me
still remember you and for that I am thankful.

I love you.
One more year has passed.

I wish you could kiss the bruises on my heart
make the marks vanish one by one so that each beat
continues to meet the next and each time my heart
pumps the art it has stored in there, it wouldn't be so tragic.
The static words, deceased on the page like snowflakes
misshapen by the treacherous winds, melted to a droplet
and softened the stones like teardrops softening a once sturdy heart.

I wish you could kiss the bruises on my heart
but so far you've been the depiction in every word,
every hurt and every tear I've ever written about.
You are without a doubt the muse behind my writings,
the angel igniting the flames that fuels my heart
and art would be meaningless had it not seen the influence of you.
You are every sloppy kisses, every awkward hugs,
enough to make me want to try all my mistakes again
like defend my heart only to have the fences defenceless.

I wish you could kiss the bruises on my heart...

There was a time when I gave you all that I could give
I've lived moments of my life in the sheer pursuit of you,
trusted you, refuted the news that you have found
and bound yourself in the hidden part of someone's heart.
There was a time when I knew what I was doing
choosing between what I really wanted and what I needed
succeeded in pushing smiles to frowns and ups to downs
I've been around this part of life for a long time.

There was a time when I gave you all that I could give
I've lived moments of my life, just hoping you would notice
but the days seem hopeless when your smile settles stitched
betwixt the happiness of another person. This heart feels frozen,
dilapidated by chosen mistakes, seems that my face
wears the sullen blame of losing what was left of this heart.

This heart seems to beat faster than I've thought possible
in hopes that you hear it's messages, the passages of confession
a relayed succession of beats like the roar of a drum.

But the days seem hopeless.
The closest I've come to being happy
was thinking back on the laughs we shared.
Oh, but it's all a distant memory now.
Goodbye beautiful girl,
I'll always remember you in my heart.

She and I, we lived completely different lives
like night and day trying not to be afraid of being in between.
I've seen a dark sky eclipse the brightest days,
the highways drenched in complete silence
a timeless space where no cars are passing by
and you and I were forever destined to go separate ways,
except we weren't really moving.

I've lived through the Hellos and I've survived the goodbyes
the wind might cry but I'm certain we were meant to part...
Because she and I, we lived completely different lives
like tangent lines, never meant to be together forever
just an effort to prolong the possibility of being apart.

Because she and I, we lived completely different lives...

I hope you're hearing my words when I say this,
You're no plain fish or cray fish that's somewhat wasteful
it's distasteful to think you're feeling tasteless
faceless to me but your words leap so beautifully
you're new to me but I wished I'd met you sooner
because luna lights are striking my eyes and I'm still reading
feeding my thoughts with all your written poems.

Your words are like fuel to a fire that burns the brightest spark
the heaviest hearts could amass your words and still find that the
brightest lights blinding quiet eyes to be an understatement.
Your words are like a thunderous cloud clashing with a calm sky
written to deny the fictitious aspects of life, written to reveal
the peeling mask behind every fake smile, written to heal
the steel hearts who have learnt cruelty from bruises and cuts.

I hope you read this written piece, because you're no Nemo or Dory,
your story is your own unique pathway, you're far from ordinary
because ordinary isn't a word that fits you at all, you're special
so let the Gods test you and I hope that you never falter or crumble,
stumble a few times if you must, but you're not a fish
you're a person, and though ignorance is bliss, you're aware of the world.
So wear off the world because everything around you,
can not truly sparkle as much as you do.

A million different people, but not one I could talk to,
this awful feeling must be what they call loneliness,
I need a warm shoulder for my skull to rest
but the mist of the mystery lies beyond me and myself.
I'm calling out for help, and the only voice I hear back
sneers back, "you are alone".

A million different people, but not one I could talk to,
A million different people, but my forked view could not
seem to spot the few.

Somewhere along the way
I've seem to forgotten your face
Your name somehow became a mystery.
Somewhere along the way
I've filled in the empty space
your name somehow became a mystery.

Somewhere along the way
I wish I could remember you
but I do not know who you were
or who you are...

So tell me, does the clouds miss the raindrops;
did I wake up forgetting teardrops,
because I've seen sunny sky turn grey
and still I wish I hadn't forgotten your name.

But goodbye to you, who I once fell for
so goodbye to you, who made bells roar...

So please just say goodnight,
I've fought the midnight blues
So please just say goodbye
because I've forgotten you

I know I'm not supposed to feel upset but some reason I do
I knew that some days I will always feel this way, unreasonable
thoughts never seemed feasible, unspeakable words I've lost
like a cross marking the memories stained saying 'wrong'.

I thought I knew you and your history but I really didn't,
this isn't supposed to upset me but for some reason it does
enough to make me want to remind you of the great things
the singsong of the morning sunrise and everything bright.
The positive light. But it might not be all that bright right now.
My shoulder is yours and I will always lend you my ear
so hear me when I tell you "we are friends forever"
and nothing will sever our friendship.

Stay strong- I believe in you. I believe in how wonderful and magnificent you are.
Don't forget to smile
-Star Gazer

More than half a year ago, I found myself in your life,
trusted your light as the guide to find my way back home
because walking alone left me the possibility of being lost,
upon seeing frost nestled between the barks of trees
I've seen what it really means to possess a cold exterior.
I watch your world and mine, conjoin like shortcuts
in the road somewhat leading people to the same places
but some roads aren't meant to be hastened, it's not tasteless
but the faces I began to recognise isn't the one walking with me
it becomes a mystery and before I falter from the trail,
I walk myself backwards, too afraid of you, too afraid to go on,
I found myself walking to the place where I came from.

I was lost, because something happened, something changed
when you took the shortcut.

Writers are forged from the fires of struggle
made to never crumble under pressure
like treasures embedded with diamonds.
Writers are fighters facing thunder and lightning,
writing the spark, the shock, the rumble
and the calm that comes after.
Writers are like iron forged under fire
burning with desire to be as strong as possible,
as sharp and logical as any thunderstorm.

Writers are roses in a valley of dandelions
aligned with lines as thorns and rhymes as petal,
which settles on paper.

I wanted to walk with you as though our shoes were tied in a knot
and out of all the walking I've done, I could not do so feeling alone.
I had to have you by my side, it was the mentality behind the heart
that stands guard, too afraid to say 'I love you' and too afraid
to just let our laces untangle as we brace for a different life.

My mother always tells me, "the right girl will find her way to you"
as to do that I had to pretend that I was brave enough to stop hiding
because I've spent time confiding in the illusions of my mind
where you and I are holding hands, making plans and chasing dreams
but it seems that every time we sew the threads the seams seem
to become undone.

Take it from a guy who's excelled in hide and seek
the bleakest place to hide is always the one kept hidden away,
the forbidden place where snakes unravel from trees
and an apple a day makes things complete, but it isn't warm.
To conform to every single sweat and tear of living alone
has its price. Take it from a guy who's connected right to left hands
made plans between three people all synonymous with 'me, myself and i',
I can tell you that being alone isn't a good feeling.

The heart isn't hidden away, it's not meant to be kept safe,
sometimes you just have to let it break to know what living really is
because the realest of all emotions is letting yourself be vulnerable,
letting yourself feel loved and to feel love.

The heart sits behind a ribcage, but it's not meant to be hidden away,
it is there to remind you to breathe because in one swift moment
when your ribcage exposes your heart, someone will steal your breath
and death is not the result but the start of feeling alive.

Why else do we say, 'some people leaves us breathless'?

Remember a time when you cared about me and my life,
when lights were dim and you lit wood on fire just for me,
before 10:40 p.m was too late to talk to me because you cared,
and now I'm scared, sitting on the edge of my bed afraid
like a cat set astray, I'm afraid of what might come by being alone
because being at home was everything you made me feel
and now the steel, the wood, the bricks are all disappearing
and the searing memory burnt into my mind is all that is present.

Please tell me , do you care enough to tell me you're okay,
tell me about your day, what you feel you have to say,
just the way things had once been. I'm tired and alone
waiting for a hello that probably won't come.

I crave the attention but I'm dying for the reminder that you
at least care about me.

Do you still remember me? The guy who's heart has been hurting
worsened by the simple objects in my room, because my room
is painted purple yet feels blue because I have mental images
that spans limitless, all of which I spent time with you
watched the tissue get discarded onto the floor as we cry our eyes out
from the cloud of movies where a man falls in love with a girl
who becomes his whole world only to have things fall apart
as dismembered hearts sit atop the shelf of books untouched, dust filled
because unwilled hearts chose to separate, and life is so much like nature
left and right danger, trust is a hill and mutual care & love is a mountain,
so very worth it but yet so very hard to climb.

I just want to say I love you
and clench onto my chest
that you will say it right back
but I'm not sure what to do.

I've said it over a million times,
all of which are in my mind,
so you'll never hear how I feel
when I want you to be mine.

When I was a kid, my mother told me I needed to grow up quicker
We'd bicker about how life is a straight line and I needed to be a man
with guidance and plans like the palm of my hands wrote my life story
before I could even ignore me. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man,
that believed night-lights were a scam to force little minds to sleep
like sheep who were always counted on to put eyelids to rest.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, a man who stayed up all night
and sighed the next morning that I did not get enough time to sleep.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, but the definitions kept changing, and based on society's placement, I was far away from being a man.
I hid the kid inside me locked away behind bars of ribs,
because kids were not allowed in bars, nor were they allowed at work,
at worst I found myself smiling not for the sake of me but others.
I held judgement that grew like a crimson rose with bitter petals
just trying to settle my old moments, live the memories in open
and hope that putting the kid inside me away was the better choice.
My voice, though deep could seep the minds of those who cared enough,
to graft dreams that bare enough for me to help see them through it.
I wish that I knew it, that being a man was somewhat of a ****** dream
because the gleam is never as bright as the source of the light,
and lonely nights were only more terrifying when you're awake.
I met a girl with a beautiful face, who dared to tell the truth
that a roof is merely a ceiling in a simple way and the fact
that I acted like a man did not make me one. I remember the words
like a curse tainting families with the plague for generations
meant to bring indignation but it didn't. The words she said
went to my head and travelled through to my heart like roots
growing shoots that helped me understand that I could change.
'Men don't do that, boys do that'.

I'm a man built on the pressures surrounded me
that I've been remnants of others more than I have been myself
and a night's help could not tell how far that I have been lost.
I tossed away fiction with satisfaction because like Pinocchio
who wanted to be a real boy, I found myself wishing the same
when tears clogged my face as I stood over my best friend's grave...
I was a man who wanted to be a kid, but I've hidden that kid so deep
that I can only ever find him in my sleep, because feeling like a kid again
would only ever come in my dreams.

I watched her body left to rest and I wondered yet...
Why was I a kid who wanted to be a man?

I've died beyond these lines
A million times just to see you smile.
I'll trade infinite lives for every chance
at one minute drives with you.
The view without your side is empty,
it's plenty of space yet a small expanse.

The infinite skies but all I want is a smile
to see you happy.

I found an empty book, it's labelled biology- grade nine,
fake lines ran across the book, never any real content,
to feel content with what I read was an impossible matter,
scattered diagrams of human anatomy too far from realism
because realistic diagrams would include labels to hearts
with coloured charts stating that 'this may fall apart-
not by fat barricades, but to paraphrase a different place,
Neruda chases the stars and from afar as the cages of ribs
would rip and sometimes, just enough to have felt loved,
to feel enough with being held for just a night, a short time,
but life is built beyond a biology book.

It is so strange that I have learnt so much more about life
than ninth grade biology because being biologically correct
doesn't ***** the hairs on my back as an assortment of words
like an assortment of birds aren't really meant to be described
as assortments and a biology book isn't really meant to describe life.

So take a deep breath
the wave is hitting
it's a new beginning.
I've fallen so far
that falling stars are nothing
but dust tossing in the air
just praying on prayers to save the day.
Blink, because my heart is still there;
the air I breathe are still memories of them
like how often I found myself lost on thoughts
nothing to break away from all that I've felt.
The mistakes costed relationships like an iceberg,
as fights burst, trying to survive the titanic.
A didactic tone to reassure my mental state
that this rental hate is just driven away
by her smile, her warm personality and her presence.
The essence of her ability and her personality...
I watch the waves crash against the shore
skies tumble and fall as thoughts of her emerged,
perverse the course of how things were meant to be.
I dare not watch her say goodbye, nor choose life without
but clouded doubt still seeps between the crevice of my brain,
afraid that the same mistake occur like two doves in one stone
leads to a dove-less world.

I'm afraid of speaking my mind,
blind to how my lips must move
or do I choose to motion words
that hurt not only me but others.

I'm afraid of speaking my mind,
the silence binds my lips sealed tight
and at night I hear the echoes of wind
win a one sided fight against the trees,
the bees and the birds missing in flight
as a lamp-light overcasts a broken shadow
of a man hugging himself in tears.

I hate to confess it
but my honest guess
is that man is lost....
because that man is me.

I'm a monster and I shall be slain like one
so as lights gone, please someone swing
a ring that weds me to the eternal end,
pretend that I am nor human nor soul
just a hole filled with nothing but decay
and mistakes left to rot...

But don't slay me, for I have so much to see
so much green left in nature and life,
a light almost vanishing yet clinging on
so swing along with the flick of a switch
that enriches the darker colours with light.
For tonight, I love and hate myself.
So help...switch on or off the light,
for I dare not ask...

who am I ?? A star or a monster??

Where do I stand? Amongst the broken or amongst the strong,
A destructive song to whistle pass oncoming traffic,
Oh tragic how the tunes I hear in my head are much louder
than the clouded judgements of those just passing by
because I'm blinded. Blinded by grass in the sky, the Earth
seems hurt, confused, upside down but I keep walking,
keep crawling, as though I have shoes made of cloud
and I'm allowed to fly wherever I want.

This isn't the world that raised me up, this is the world
that hurled abuse and painful memories, just to keep me down.
It's what I've allowed and to that I say I'm walking on
because my feet sings a song, the pitter-patter beat
like sleep under a tin roof echoing the serene sounds of raindrops.
The pain stops, the tears I've heard are not falling down my face,
it is the rain, leaking between cracks of a self-made ceiling
and as healing begins, this is my start, by tearing down that roof.

My shoes are made of cloud and I am walking across the sky,
hear me sigh as I say 'this is where I should have started from'
Catacombs are built for the dead, you are breathing, you are alive,
hearts survive, and so will you, so just do me a favour...
tear that ******* roof down and fly.

Some things remained close because they were never meant to be open,
not all is starlights, high tides and bright nights in each moment
but it is not to say that they won't appear or have appeared before you
the exit sign is still lit, your smile is cracking but the glue is before you,
I know I have said it many times before, how I urged you to stay strong,
to listen to a song, to meet people and get along but I was wrong...
sometimes staying strong isn't enough to keep you smiling or happy
and something is always lacking, so please listen to me;
you will make it, because bending and not breaking is your style,
and teddy, that smile, will arise before you as the way it has before
so you can choose the exit door or just hold on a little longer.
stand a little stronger, build yourself firmer, because you won't break,
there's a space filled with opportunities, chances, so without haste,
what is your sign? Is it a Leo, Capricorn or cancer? What's the answer?
It doesn't really matter, because signs don't define you, they define route
and the news that you aren't happy with the you, the you that you are,
is like lighting a burning star on fire just to wish of it from afar.
Take your signs, the exit one is still lit but so is the building
because you are not crumbling, not while I am here, friend.

Take a minute off your mind and don't mind the minute details,
they're like emails, trash boxed and binned, forever stuck in junk.
I know it's not about fun, it's heart and soul, tears and sweat
each moment could be a laughter packed with imminent regret
but you better not forget that I am your friend and I have hope
that you know what is the better road to take, the path to make,
the sea escapes my eyes like a wave clasping onto the shores
and before you, I see a strong piece of solid gold amidst the waves
never changing shades, always floating on as the sun overcasts a light,
and it reminds me that maybe that is enough to see in humanity
the flicker of light, a spectre of sight, a tiny bit of 'I'm probably not right-
but I don't really care', and to be fair, that's all is required.
Take the path that you wish to tread because what is walking a thousand miles for someone worth, when you're walking alone?

Oh honey, depression isn't pretty,
it isn't suppose to be,
people always connect sadness
with depression
but the connection is different,
it is a train of thought
like a chain cut short,
that is sturdily held together
but it doesn't last forever,
it is an armour that is worn
and polished everyday
just to say, 'I'm not sure'.

Oh honey, depression isn't pretty;
it isn't suppose to be,
and I want you to know clearly,
that there are always people
out there, somewhere,
who appreciate you for you
and who is nothing more than
a teardrop or a sweat dripping
away from help.

Some might ask,
'Are you depressed?'
and I can say, 'no I'm not',
so what I write is an expression of mind,
of how I wish you could find, that you
have a chance, because you deserve that chance,
the past is the past, a certain glance at the future
says that you could be doing so much more
and if you don't want to, that's your choice
but honey, depression isn't pretty
and it isn't suppose to be,
but you sure are beautiful,
so please keep staying strong
and marching on.

Step 1
In the age of the doom
Try and enlighten the gloom
because your mind has been twisted
blinded by negative criticism
a misguided decision on who you are
as a person.
If you think the world is dying,
that trying is a burden and a pointless task
just ask yourself, should I plant sunflowers
just to make things look prettier?
because in the age of the doom
don't let chaos consume your mind
because beauty can still exist.

Step 2
It is ok to love yourself
and be selfish from time to time.
You are wonderfully made
with all different shade of colours
so if make-up is your cover
than do what makes you happy.
You do not need to help everyone
sometimes helping yourself
is enough help as it is.
Love others and love yourself
because not everyone is as helpless
as you'd imagined.

Step 3
Be you**
Not the you that others like
but the you that you are comfortable with,
the you that you like
because as clear as day and night,
the only person that matters is you.

___________

There is a flower growing between the cracks in a wall
and the saddest thing is it is not getting enough
sunlight nor water to grow but it survives
simply by the admiration and love
that it gains by surrounding viewers.

There is a flower that grew in the dark,
that grew between cracks in the ground,
between the cracks in the walls
and it is the most beautiful flower I have ever seen.

A man does not love a beautiful woman
He falls for those that makes the world beautiful
So treasured enough that treasures become mere gold
And stories untold become life-long diamonds trapped in a tunnel.
Because she is the one he can run to,
the one that he would ctrl z, undo,
only to come to the same place again.
She doesn't have to wear a dress
Or show off her breast, no she doesn't
wear makeup to cover the darker shades
because even darker shades happen in nature,
and so 24-7 she's an infinite loop encased in his mind,
that glimmers of gold yet shows him that love is so blind,
because a man doesn't love a beautiful woman,
a man loves a woman that makes his world beautiful.

While chasing a sunset that catches your eye
you've learnt to forget that it doesn't last
and as an overcast blocks the light,
you'll be stuck as part of the older past.

My inner turmoil is almost limitless
yet your patience seems to be infinite.
Some days I feel like I'm drowning
but I don't own it in pride or proudly.
My face goes beyond wrinkled lines
as if a frown could be a simple sign.
I have a hundred different smiles
and while some point to the sky
only three or four are truly happy
because I'm a dog without an owner
facing thousand others who won't own up,
so even without an owner
I'm somehow still feeling like a lackey.
So can you please find it in you
to come back and remind me
that when I need you, you'll be there.
My soul is bruised by inner turmoil,
so please go grab a shovel from the shed
and when I need it, please help bury me
in the sands, in the dirt and soul;
to relinquish the inner turmoil.