We started off as a closed friend, a knitted relationship—
ruined by someone unworthy.
We ended up blocking each other on social media,
cutting off and burning bridges,
If necessary, we will bury everything in oblivion.
Are you not tired of yapping about nonsense things?
Sometimes, learn to work your intellect and not just your mouth, okay?
Tin cans are easy to babble when it is empty without proofs, right?
I thought so.
What were lost from us will find its way to return to us,
When you lost us, prepare yourself
The worst is yet to come
The worst— I mean, a recipe for disaster
And we plan to not come back any longer.
So, I suggest, go home here in the Philippines
Face your son and yap along with him.
Okay?
Learn to focus on yourself and not on ours.
Take note, you are still thinking of what to say
We are already one step ahead of you.

Ciao, Adios!
I am ******* done!
Sayonara!

I like this excerpt from the song "YK" by Cean Jr.:

"You're my remedy for all the pain that's hurting me."

I used to believe that.
That his presence was the medicine—
the one thing that made the pain bearable.

But I’ve come to realize something deeper, something heavier:
He is both the cause and the cure of my pain.
He broke me, and yet, he’s the only one I longed for to feel whole again.

When he came close, the ache would fade.
But it was only because he was the one who left it there in the first place.
I mistook the comfort of his return for healing.
I thought relief meant repair.

But healing isn’t silence.
And comfort isn’t closure.
No one can truly fix what they were the first to destroy.
And maybe that’s the tragedy—
that the only person who can truly take the pain away
is the same person who gave it to me.

I play pokers with snakes,
I play hide and seek with monsters under my bed
I play truth or dare with backstabbers
Well, it is called truth for a reason

I mirror unparallel versions of you, mimicked into one
The deception of the trickster was acted upon by the *****
For them, money is god. For God, you are pulverized— like ***** and Gomorrah.

Forming words like scrabbles is like forming words of questioning abilities
Be it a word or a phrase— make up your mind and lay the tiles on the scrabble board
Like a domino effect, I stack you up and you fall

Pick up sticks, fell down and picked up
But sticks and stones will surely break your bones.
The games of the general or checkers, move for the red or the black one
Bull's eye like darts or archery, you could swing by in a baseball bat.

Knowing a mastermind's mind games is wicked
But knowing your move is like playing chess with the enemy.

Not knowing when he will bite or blow,
Fed by fear and latin prayers
behind the latin prayers written in the red handkerchief

I was wise enough to tell when I let it burn
Out with the agony, with the truth one person tells through smoke
Like this poem, my mind is in scribbles too.

the only thing for my mind to keep quiet was...
to write what I feel and let my thoughts fly
like me, almost like a flightless bird
more likely Medusa, sometimes a fictional character but most of the time, me. Misunderstood and betrayed.

But he was the best.
no wonder I miss my home,
His house was a far less travelled by
I miss that home, where I could call him to come by
And hug him all the time
My home was never a building, a big structure
But he was a tall man with a dark brown round eyes like me, curly hair and dark skinned.
He has a humor that makes me laugh all the time without being tickled,
He makes me feel loved and cared for
He loves pandas, cuddles, hugs and kisses
He loves me of course above all.

He was my calm and peace amidst the noise going on inside my mind
He was my sanity. He brings out the best in me

one thing I was trained for
was to not be scared of the devil.
it mimics. it scares. it feeds from your fear.
be it a demon or a person.

one thing I will always be scared of,
GOD.
He is the Sovereign One. The Triune God.
I am a God-fearing servant of God.

I was never a type of person...
to share thoughts and open my mind,
my wounds for everyone to see or feel
but I was a type of person to hold a pen,
write my emotions, describe thoughts I could not draw

I was never an achiever at drawing
but I was an awardee at writing, speaking...

I was a type of person
who hid behind her notebook,
flips through empty, unwritten new pages
of a newly bought notebook

I was never the type of person
to start a conversation,
I was not much of a smooth talker
only a few knew me,
beyond what they see in the mask I hide
beyond the lies I tell
the stories I unravel

I was always the type of person being bullied,
abused, naive for a fact that everyone understands me
or that everyone is my friend
or that everyone will not spill my secret
As Ginny says, secrets hold power
I want that power gone, so is the secret I tell

I was the type of person,
sensitive and loving
clingy to my friends, supportive to my siblings
I was always the advice seeker
but where were you when I needed you most?
I thought we had each other's backs
but I guess, when I was the talk of the town, you joined the fun.

maybe, because gossiping sure was fun.
I was once the life of the party
but now it feels like my life is a party
a funeral for everyone to see,
hypocrites lined up waiting to see me

I think I like my new name, new form better
Everyone calls me a liar, a thief, a what now?
A devil.
I look, talk and walk like an angel, just like in a song
that I got wise, now I am the devil.
but he never grins or smirks,
I will never forget what you all called me
But I like my name, I think it suits me

I
killed so
many versions
of myself...

Just to make you happy
Just to change myself for you to love
and accept me,
Hence, I was wrong.

How do I get away of ******? by not killing so many versions of myself just to feel loved and accepted.
But I was wrong again

we **** our old self, bury the hatchet, oblivious, they say
to love and be loved, is what I longed for
but never to force a reckoning connection,
never spark a dull moment in your life that you would ever think twice
not knowing when that love will come or it shall pass
life's uncertainties are things we cannot control of,
for so long, I was never a love fan
but I am not desperate for a love that was never mine,
then, certainly will, **** like a bubble, they are gone.

so again, how not to get away with ******? is never to start a ******.