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Devouring precious words,
Extraordinary text,
Once hidden in a treasure chest,
Inside of a stranger’s mind.
The crisp scent of a new book,
A collection of poems,
The key to someone’s mind and striking soul.
You force yourself into the marshy boots of a young girl residing on an ancient farmland field,
You feel the sunlight soaking your face,
As you pluck strawberries from the leafy shrubs,
And ride a horse across the endless meadows to taste liberty.
You inhale the air of their world,
That lives exclusively in your mind.
A world of ecstatic glee,
And shed distressed teardrops for all their little world’s sadness.
You’ve teleported into a different realm,
Following the flow of beautifully chained words,
And letting your imagination run free.
You are living in the life,
A poet once dreamed.
Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are!
You utter the native tongue of eternity,
When I stopped to speak to you one soundlessly desolate summer night.
Your babbling was beautifully soothing,
Though I heard absolutely nothing.
Up above a world so high,
Staring at millions of diamonds in the sky,  
I suddenly know all the answers to the puzzles.
I gaze up at your blinding twinkle,
And you flaunt me your splendid eyes of hope.
Teaching me that life is further than your numberless worries,
Because tonight the stars are seen.
We couldn’t count the stars for each and every one of our frets,
But we could try for everything we love.
You remind me that our existence is short,
And so very meaningful.
Whenever I feel wretched and in despair,
I stop to stare at the pitch black night sky,
And meet my eyes with you.
It’s the moment our eyes interlock,
That I remember the definition I promised to find in life.
When I look at you,
I think back to what molds my soul,
And discover millions of stars inside.
It was then,
That I found my meaning,
In something that had either several,
Or entirely none.
Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are!
You’re like a colony of ants,
You disperse all over the levelled grey tiles,
And dumbly pry about in meadows of green grass.
You cluster around my feet once I’ve paced onto the chilly surface of the tiles,
And tickle me annoyingly when I’m barefoot on the turf grass.
At first you don’t look as though you would bite,
Like other creepy-crawly bugs.
You appear itty-bitty,
And undisputedly friendly.
So innocent enough to trust,
Comfortably rest on the ground,
And contentedly loosen up.
But then came your colony,
A swarm of ants each with their own secret weapon.
You bothered me with your insulting remarks,
Bruising my heart with every strike from your spiteful tongue.
Using me for your individual gain,
And shoving me away once you were done for the day.
Your jealousy had turned me into your war zone,
Where you’d fire bullets recklessly.
You came as a disguised friend,
And bit by bit,
You unveiled to me everything that sailed under false colours.
The colony of ants,
They came.
Crawling onto me irritably,
I’m wailing helplessly,
Unable to achieve victory,
Because whenever I push you away,
Stomp on the flock of ants,
They never die,
And you never leave me alone.
Now I’m shrieking,
For all of eternity,
Because I have ants,
Trapped in my pants.
Pacing onto crisp pavement,
After years of childhood bliss.
One step towards my destiny,
Nudging the past to the rear end of my mind.
Sixteen years of breathing,
At last I’m venturing away,
Away from home.
Trickling into the streets of this suburb,
Like water through the gaps in rifts.
Gazing at the lines of houses,
Resting like brick statues before the very eyes of a sunset like fire.
Observing a hound bark at me from the drug addict’s wrecked home,
And men smoking cigarettes,
Just another evening in the suburbs.
Ambling away from the clusters of several children,
Giggling on tricycles with a trail of bubbles following,
And playing with their toy water guns.
I’m departing from the glee,
Because I’m off to grow up,
Fleeing from my early days,
And pacing on the unswerving sidewalk,
To a grinning future.
Marching by the alleys I used to scamper through as a child,
And all the houses I’ve witnessed been constructed from scratch.
I’m eager to leave it all behind,
And race towards my world ahead.
The mourning crows cry as they devour waste from the garbage cans,
The looming cars move steadily into driveways,
Unravelling with families gone to grocery stores.
The sky is brimming with thousands of erupting fireworks,
Of flames and amber explosions.
The crows are chanting a deafening song,
Perched on blinking streetlights.
Reflecting on those past memories,
When they were just my present.
Flopped in a booster seat in the back of my mother’s car,
On my way to elementary school,
The ABC’s embedded in my head,
Back in 2010.
Smiling at that house at the end of the side street,
The one that’s been under construction since 2004.
Oh all the demolished bungalows,
The middle class families and their fixation with building mansions!
Why would they destroy these lovely homes,
Furnished with years and years of a million happy memories,
Just to settle in a vacant house with nothing,
Nothing but work to do,
To make the home a memory aisle.
There’s no point in caring,
Because I’m leaving it all behind.
Wandering on these suburban sidewalks,
I’m walking on a route of golden opportunity,
To an exceptional future.
Trekking away from the immature world of blowing bubbles and untold bicycle bliss,
To a new realm of discovery ahead.
One that entails a ladder to success,
And walking sidewalks to grasp independence.
I can’t wait to go there,
Adulthood,
I can’t wait to grow up.
Meet my destination,
And make a new home there.
But what if I turn back,
What if I change my mind,
And walk back to my childhood and my home?
What if I toss my future out the car window,
And sprint back to my home,
Of laughing children playing soccer on pavement road?
What if I quit this journey,
And miss the chances I never took?
The infinite odds keep me striding forward on my feet,
What will my future hold?
I can see a beam of light ahead,
A glow of freedom.
It inhabits in faraway places,
And I can’t grip it if I abandon this journey and walk home.
Still I fear the obstacles along the way,
I dread failing after struggling so hard,
Is it really worth forgoing this adventure now?
I have to walk,
But back at home all I did was play.
All this work,
Is it worth it?
I miss all the beautiful ordinary things,
The tears that caress these cheeks are filled with grief,
I’m losing everything I once held so spiritedly,
My grip is loosening,
Why have I chosen to let go,
Of my childhood?
The thought of this loss is what’s holding me back from wandering alongside this unexplored road,
It utters to me,
Forcing me to turn back,
And walk home.
I’m unaware of where to go,
My feet have stopped,
And I’m inert and tense.
The flames are now peaceful,
And a black screen gently shades the sky.
It’s getting dim,
Yet constellations haven’t been noticed,
Still the streetlights illuminate the roadway.
Do I walk to my future,
Like balancing on a threadlike rod in the sky,
Or walk back home,
Live merrily once again?
I lay my back on the cold concrete road,
The path of survival,
Where cars come and go.
Resting my head to watch the starless sky,
I don’t care about where I’m going.
I’m left bare minded,
Surrounded by two worlds divided.
Soundlessly laying on the road of survival,
An endless route of dreading destiny’s hurdles,
Deciding to remain a child forever.
I know it’s beyond the bounds of possibility,
To not grow,
So I’m choosing to linger for an obstacle,
And let it crush me softly.
When will a car come and glide,
Over my glum doleful face,
Impairing it in seconds?
When will it come,
So I don’t have to breathe for the coming times,
And the memories that **** me for embarking on this journey,
When will it come so they perish too?
The rain has arrived,
Drizzling from the pitch blackness above.
Now heavily it falls from hellish thunderclouds,
My head rests in a murky pool of storm water.
It’s done,
The journey is done.
All the faith I stored to reach the dazzle of my destiny,
Melted by this torrent,
And my irrational wits,
Shoving me into a thick marsh of beaming memories from the past.
The future,
It’s gone.
You wear a phoney facade,
A persona you dress in to please people.
You wash it from time to time,
When it gets worn out and greasy.
Tossing it into the laundry,
And cleansing it so it can conform to what people fleetingly demand from you.
You’re a people pleaser honey,
You crave the gratification from others,
Because you so desperately want them to like you.
In your wardrobe rests hundreds of clothes hangers,
Holding dozens of prepared outfits.
Turn them topsy-turvy and you’ll find,
A dozen set disguises.  
So many different getups,
For so many different occasions,
A get-together friends party,
Having dinner with family,
And when you’re hanging out with the cool clique.
You’re constantly swapping masks,
When bumping into new people,
Each crowd craving something distinct from you.
All your clothes contain a hue of sky blue,
Even though you resent the tint of blue.
You flaunt it as your favourite colour to conceal your true shades,
You love a splash of rosy pink but blue is ultimately cooler,
So blue is your favourite colour.
When nightfall draws near after a tiresome day of pleasing people,
You carefully fold your laundry.
Vigilantly so the fabric doesn’t rip from your facades,
Because you care a lot about what people think of you.
Settled amongst your laundry and within your closet,
Is a society of countless unique individuals,
But none of them are you.
From my birth,
The dawn of life,
You didn’t think twice,
About the name I was handed.
A label I didn’t quite understand,
But I wore it on my head obliviously.
Heedless of the might and lavish worth,
I lusted after less dominant titles.
Behind that label I wore so cluelessly,
Was the dictionary definition,
Of a title I wasn’t pleased with.
“A queen who rules”,
A name handed to me,
Like a crown given by accident.
Strange, zany, unattractively odd,
My name was supposedly nothing but bizarre.
I loathed my name,
And weighed it to others.
Oh the girls named Sarah,
Their names would always ascend above me on society’s scale,
With its pretty chime departing from the lips.
Oh the girls named Sarah,
All these years I craved for your name,
I wanted to be the princess that you were,
But now I know,
I am power,
The game changer,
In the complicated game of chess,
That we call life.
Pondering back to Persian origins,
I remain the name for the queen,
The most powerful piece in chess.
I learned that I am no princess,
When my name means queen.
I am reclaiming my name,
And I will live up to my title.
Sarah may surpass me,
But I rise up on scales,
Of meaning.
Your walks at dawn beneath the crisp and cloudless sky,
Gazing at the sunlight,
Toasting your face.
The trickles of water from the garden hose,
Soaking your trousers,
Whilst bathing the tree you planted,
Eight years ago.
Breathing in the present,
And sipping milkshakes,
Of the clashing music of suburban life and the natural world.
Cooking lovely platters for the family,
And smiling when chopping the onions,
Laughing at how the tears burn your eyes!
Staring at the world slip by,
At midnight through the glass of your bedroom window,
The eye to the world you can hold,
And firmly possess.
The stillness at witching hour,
And your grin to value it,
Makes you fall in love with your life.
Laugh at every moment of life,
You’re breathing,
So be in blithe,
Rest your head on cloud nine,
And begin to romanticize the mundane bits of your life.
That is when you will discover,
Everyday casual magic,
In all the jaded things.
Smile when life serves you a flavourless meal,
And celebrate what isn’t normally celebrated.
Tear your curtains off your window,
And let your whole world know,
You’re the main character.
Make everyday life things,
Meaningful.
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