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the worlds want me to fly higher,
        but you don't care about my
        wings so i cut it & put in a box.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dreams.
        i want to chase winds.
        but they say most birds who
        chase wind are fools,
        so i stop chasing.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dream.
        i want to vanish without a trace.
        crazy for a little bird like me
        who cut its wings.
        a long time ago
        i had a nest called
        home(house)?
        i don't know
        i don't care
        maybe someday
        if you care enough
        i will have a courage
        to find my wings again
        
        ©IGMS 2020
She built her house
in tattered papers of
broken dreams and
expectation of people
around her.

Why is it that everytime
she open her eyes
all she can see is
the lone star
pretending to blend with
other stars around it?

Why insist?

Why is it that it is trying to hide her brightness with other stars?

Afraid of rejection?

She built her home
in thunderstorm of madness.
The idea of being put
in the sea of people
and you have a enochlophobia, swimming in fire
and flying to the ground.

I don't know where it lead her
but all I can see is the destruction.

Her destruction.
_
of all the love
and hate,
we are all
going
to the last word

End.
funny...
i was once thought that,
when i tried to swallow the pen and papers,
i will be able to write
without using my hand.

but i was wrong.

because every time you reminded me
that i don't know how to write,
reality will criticize me that
i am illiterate in fighting
in this mess up world.

illiterate.

an illiterate person who don't how to use
guns and swords in fighting
for the freedom of mind.

i am in masked.

a masked person
because  i tried to swallow
the words that persist to
pressed inside my mind that
"i am already lost even if the
fight is not yet started".

© IGMS
ill
it is so painful to write a poem
...
a poem for you
...
the scars started to open again
...
is it worth it to use this dripping blood
use this as an ink to write
...
about you?
...
every line feels like
there are thousand ants biting at my heart
...
i cannot fin-
Arghh
.
.
.
understand me.

coz u don't know
what it feels like,

to breath, just only

to survive.

©IGMS
where is hapiness?
where is hope?
what is the meaning of life?
no money or things
that can buy goodwill,
in exchange,
only itself can
buy it.

©IGMS
i have a friend (dunnow if he think me in that way) that think he can buy my goodwill.
he gave me things and i know that it is the change for my goodwill for him and it sadden me.
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