stay a little longer,
edward scissorhands.
a cold shoulder to lean on,
my prickly little cactus.

seems like we have something in common.
i like hurting myself
and so do you.

Where are all the answers?
Look within.
It's a muddle inside.
Which way leads to home?
Which way leads to you.
If I take one,
Where will I be departing to?
Everyday, it seems
I'm throwing all that I am
My principles, my past,
My identity.

Men seldom make passes
At girls who wear glasses.

precious time we own

both yours and mine.

indeed,

such wealth seems worth wanting to keep

but we must remember

in taking yours,

i’m losing mine.

precious time we own.

run, run, run, but nowhere to go
cos in the end, only in circles and in circles.
they all find a way to catch me back.

because what goes around, around, around,
surely must come back around

snugly back to their grip
no spaces between their hands to breathe

suffocating slowly

You're the trees dancing softly in the wind.
You're the vibrating string making sound such calming, making me want to drown.
You're the smell of new sheets after a rainy night.
You're my bookstand I'll always reach to.
You're the river of words wrote down carefully on brown paper I'll always look for escape in.
And you're just making me smile.
I love you.