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On my boat i named Bed,
With only tiredness and lullabies for provisions,
I sail at night; for that is the best time,
Into a sea of vivid images.

Always I am astounded,
by whimsical images,
or macabre nightmares,
Rising up and sinking down in soft waves
of dreams
and being teased by the wind.

I love escaping to sea
But I always have to come back to Day,
where Reality awaits
Sometimes I wish I could sail out far away
escaping Reality to the sea of dreams
and perhaps into the arms of Death
forever.

But my time is not yet
so best savour the night-time sails
and brace Reality in Day
One day I'll get to Death,
but not this day.
Some say 'shyness is pride'
Some say 'shyness is cowardness'
Well what do the shy say?
They are well guarded,
With a wall so high and thick,
With traps and the unknown,
A fortress concealing what?
If shyness were pride,
Could it conceal great weapons?
If that were so,
Will those weapons bring benefits of utter destruction?
Should it be regarded as selfish or humble?
If shyness is cowardness,
could it conceal weakness?
If that were so,
Shouldn't the shy be regarded as being strong in a way?
The shy are mysterious and often misunderstood,
But really, what do the shy say?
We might never know,
Considering the fact they never reveal anything,
Be it great or not.
You're like my little bird,
Fragile and precious,
You are delicate and beautiful,
Your voice is a beautiful symphony.

But you are easily flown away by the wind,
Being so little in this vast world,
You are easily hunted down by merciless predators,
Being so weak and feeble.

Always, I'm frightened by the thought,
That I would someday lose you,
To worse,
To death.

I promise to care for you,
But am unsure if i could keep it,
For I don't know how,
Being awkward and new to this.

This feeling is raw and weird,
Words I know can't explain it,
You are fragile to me;
Your name could shatter at the very mention.

It will not be easy,
This task of protecting you and defending,
But know that I will go to any measure,
To keep my precious one from harm.
A Chesire cat grins at me tonight
I can only see his mouth
The rest of him is hidden in the black hemisphere
But he is kind,
He illuminates for me a glimpse of the cloud kingdom
Oh, but they look so lonely, without the birds.

In my stiff party dress
I follow Mad Hatter and Mad Hare
To a party where Mad Hatters and March Hares multiply
All so quarrelsome and confusing,
In company of the Queen of Hearts, King and queersome flat people,
As if one pair of Mad Hatter and Mad Hare
Wasn't bad enough.

When I arrive, what a fantastic sight I beheld
My cousins tell me what a giant I've become!
As I hugged them, I had to stoop, and thought;
As if I had any control over growth,
Well perhaps you shrunk - it's hardly my fault.
Then I felt rather miniature,
As I shook my uncles' and aunties' hands;
They were so big and booming with authority,
They pet my head and cooed at me,
I let them, not wanting trouble.

My, there was quite a chatter,
I easily got lost
But tediously, I managed to get out
It was as if I had drowned,
And was revived again,
By the creepy Chesire cat up high

I sat by the garden wall
How I felt tired and dull!
I longed for home
But I do not know where it is
So I wrapped a stolen coat around me
Because the Chesire cat's smile was indeed chilling
Then wondered when Ole Lukøje's brother will come
But I see Ole Lukøje's silhouette already
He takes me by the hand
And we danced into dreams.
sorry if it's too long
i had a long night and this was inspired by alice in wonderland and Ole Lukøje(hans christian anderson)
Depression, desperation
Because of loneliness,
Or loss of love;
That is what we write.

Joy, happiness,
Because of companionship,
Or love that we discovered;
That is what we write.

Mumbo-jumbo, randomness,
Because we need to express,
All sense of insanity in the world;
That is what we write.

And in all that we write,
It is for the purpose of expressing.
For 'we are most affected by what surrounds us'. That was what my teacher said
and i guess, we're writing you-don't-say stuff in a more creative way.
We were best of friends;
Or so you can say,
Because earlier on,
I used to tease her for her size;
I was a sort of bully, you see
But then my friends found other friends
And i was left with her.

I remembered the time she wore a pretty dress,
And i wanted it,
But with a cat picture on it,
Because hers was a puppy.

We made a deal-
That she'd sell me that dress,
And i would stop teasing her,
I did stop teasing her,
But i never did buy that dress
My loss, i know i am a silly tradesman
But hey, i got myself a friend
And it wasn't that bad.

So the days passed
And she always visited me at my house
On her blue bicycle
Because I didn't have the guts to walk to her house alone,
Or learn to ride a bicycle
Without trainer wheels.

We played with dolls,
Braided each other's hair
Or you could say my hair
Because i didn't have a hint of how to back then,
Shen wanted to a be a hairstylist
I wanted to be a doctor.

One day we found two puppies
A brown one and a black one
Under a car on my street
I took the brown one,
And she took the black one,
Because I took the brown one
I named mine Puffin and she named hers Rocky.

She was better at naming i guess
Because growing up,
Only then did i know that Puffin was a kind of bird
And naming him Muffin
Might have been more sensible.

But we found out that the puppies had an owner
And escaped through his gate
And so we had to give them back
We were sad of course
But at least we didn't lose our first pets
Through death.

Then came the day
I had to move away
She braided my hair for the last time
I asked her to show me the puppies
For one last time
But she never did
And so we parted.

Now i know
How to ride a bike without trainer wheels
I'm better at hair braiding
And i have quite many dresses
And many different friends
But no puppies or cats
But that's okay.

I was going to tell her all these
And with the phone number she gave me
I realised i hadn't written her name properly
And it dawned upon me that after all that,
*I still didn't know how to spell her name.
It all began as an observation,
a mere innocent study,
to watch people in cars,
from cars.

First, the tired workers,
who glared and stared in the road in front,
who slumped in their seats,
who held the steering wheels in a glum manner,
who had dark circles under their eyes,
who had cans of beers at the back seat,
tired, weary, drained, exhausted,spent.

The cheeky children,
who yelled at their siblings,
who wrestled with siblings,
who sat listening to lectures,
who texted with their phones,
who went tippy tappy with their laptops,
who ignored the world; reading,
innocent, busy adolescents.

Of course, there are mothers,
who glance at their sleepy children every few minutes,
who smile at their babies dotingly,
who gave loud lectures to kids,
who smoked cigars,
who was on the phone,or was just driving ahead,
loving, fussy, unleisured.

There were the out-going,
who head-banged furiously to booming music,
who sang aloud to radio,
who chatted enthusiasticly with passengers,
who smiled the whole way through the journey,
who stuck their hands out to feel the wind,
who had nothing to worry about,
free, wonderful, liberated, loose.

Also, some were fretful,
who needed to visit hospitals,
who had their heart broken,
who got rejected at interviews,
who lost someone,
who is obviously in anxiety, who were simply drunk,
worrysome, tired, sad.

And then there's me,
who had nothing better to do,
than to watch and observe,
and felt many things should be changed,
eccentric, weird.
Not even a song will be sung for you,
Not even a soul will be there for you,
Not even a kiss will touch your lips,
Not even your hand will be held,
Not even your heart will be remembered,
Not even a word you say will be heard,
Not even an eye will look upon you,
Not even the wolves will come for you,

You are undesirable,
Ruined.
i was in a shell
a dark, vast shell
filled with a tiny little me
the taunting voices
and of course,
darkness.

the voices spoke
and like i said
they taunted me much
i hated it
and i often wonder
in this dark shell
how do i know what to hate
when i know so little
of what there is to like.

then one day
the dark shell cracked
and light flooded in
a shell that was seemingly solid
was beginning to crack
by the people outside
but then again how did i know
they were people?
how did i even figure there was a world outside
when all this while the shell was the only
place i'd been?

but the best thing about the crack
the best thing that came with the crack
was the flooding light
its warmth
its luminiscence
its existance in the shell
the light embraces me,
causes me to feel safe
curious
hungry
hope
unsure
acknowledged.

i hunger more for the light
i try to break out
for it meant freedom
now how i knew that
once again i dont know
it's just blind faith
but the voices
sometimes they pull me back
but i'm fighting
i want that light
i want to get out
to know
to experience
to be alive
to be loved
for i already feel the sneek peak of it
and i want more.
the blue houses
were blue
like the sky
before sunset.

the blue houses
became orange-ish
like the sky
during sunset.

the blue houses
now look black
like the sky
after sunset.
Do you ever wonder why you harbour so much hatred in your heart?
Do you ever wonder what it'd be like if you did something different?
Do you ever wonder what it's like in other's shoes?
Do you ever wonder what it's like if you didn't exist?
Do you ever wonder if anyone wonders the same?

— The End —