I thought I could take it
and so I endured.
I thought I could make it
and so I went on.
Dismissing each thought
each farewell suggestion.
Little did I know
I was not that strong.

I've been good and I've been behaved.
I haven't had an idea like that for even more than days.
But somehow recently, I have been thinking,
planning once more,
my life which is fleeting.

I don't know why it's hard to tell others,
hard to tell those who you love and vice versa,
They tried asking when they seem to catch me,
but it doesn't seem that they take me seriously.
I'm just that extrovert who's had a bad day.
Doubtful it seems for me to wish myself away.
Some people have it worse and say I can't complain,
but this time it's different,
cause maybe you can handle it but this is my pain.

Stop calling me dumb,
Stop calling me intimidating,
Stop calling me walang hiya
please, stop calling me big,
It's not exactly a compliment,
so please stop saying it.
I thought you understood me
though maybe I'm at fault here,
for I could never show my feelings
as clear as my streaming tears.

I don't know how to tell my parents I'm struggling.
Because one minute I'm a giggling
12 year old,
sleeping over at friends houses,
laughing at nothing,
eating junk food
and watching horror movies,
the next minute I'm a bumbling
17 year old,
and someone has pulled the plug out of my bath,
I'm cold and shaking,
alone in a cylinder cube that's spinning and spinning
and spinning out of control,
I can't move my arms because of the speed,
it's throwing me in directions I never knew existed
until now,
as I'm cascading down a waterfall,
plummeting to the ends of the earth,
I scream for mercy at a God I don't know,
and wish I attended church once a week,
prayed to a religion I don't believe,
just to feel comfort wrap their arms around me,
but still, amidst the wreckage
and the bendy, broken bones
and my calloused feet from running around in my head all day,
I pull myself up,
shake my head and watch as my tears fall
from my face, just like the dust from my hair,
and I take a bath,
and I continue.
Even though I ache and I cry,
and I feel I could die,
I soldier on throughout the wind and the rain,
and as the hail falls forth from the skies,
and pandora's box opens
I scream:
"Yes! I made it!"
because I had gotten up that morning and attended my morning classes,
even though I have shapes and welts where the hail had hit,
I still laugh like I'm
12 years old again.
I bandage my wounds,
and watch as they scar,
and although I hide them,
and slander and name call them,
I kiss them now and again to
make sure they heal.
Because I can't be sure when someone will
kiss me to make me recover,
so I kiss myself to sleep every night,
and tell myself I'm worthy of it.
Just so I can wake up and smile.

To a world that's spinning out of my control.

I am your puppet.
You pull my strings.
Make me dance,
for it's you I please.
I am your puppet.

Thing is, I'm not.

You treat me like a toy
and it needs to stop.
You act like I'm on the bottom
and you're at the top.
I am not your puppet,
I am not your game.
That's it.
You will not play with me today.

Drowned in my own tears,
for a few days, I think.
All that time, I cried and cried,
scared I'd never blink.

You would think,
devoting a life, to someone so hideous inside
would get that devotion burned,
but  instead of burning my own life away,
I stood and decided to be a tornado today.

Fires can burn brightly, I know,
like the guy who broke me so,
but tornadoes can rip the land,
and still reach the star struck galaxy of black.

So go on then,
my lost, loved X,
I'll be higher,
not a star, but a brilliant, bright lightning bolt sent from a much greater fire, that has more passion then the world,
could ever begin to acquire.