it may such just a little thing,
yet it can end any sentences,
can caught any attentions
and can stop any questions

it may symbolize
any feelings:
sad,
angry,
or confused

this dot is important
just like anything
in this world,

for it doesn't matter
how big or small
a thing is...

...it's how we give meaning to it.

I write.
I hide.
My parents never knew I make poetry
and every time they ask me:
"It's already late in the evening,
why are you still awake?"
I lied.

I burnt scratch papers of my poems
into million ashes,
'cause they are too many to keep.

It has almost been six years since
I started expressing my thoughts in my pens,
still my parents never knew I make poetry.
I just don't like them to know!
I hope they will be proud of me,
of their son.

So I burnt scratch papers of my poems
into million ashes,
to keep this as a secret.

I write.
I hide.