I'm feeling afraid
that if I started writing
I will never stop

It'll be a big show
for watching my life fall apart, But you just turned around
and didn't help me get up
I wonder,
when will I go back and have a good start?

Back at it again from the scratch
For you know I do not understand a lot
of things and such.

No one asked me why I tremble and shake,
why I feel a constant ache.
They told me that hearts are fragile but
it never, ever break.

You must wear a beam of emotions
upon your skin
just like when your heart is tucked
underneath that shirt sleeves
I want an escape from reality
and have long rides with my fantasy.

I try to think of all the possible criticisms,
until it hurts and go numb
I assure you that nothing will ever go
against me.

maybe home isn't where the four walls are at
or where your family lives in

maybe it's somewhere you once stayed when the downpour was so hard
and you need to stop by for a while,
nowhere to be found
yet you unconsciously found a comfort instead

but little you did know
that it is geographically located
within you
in your chilling bones
and burning heart.

For now,
it's been waiting for you
to come home...

No, don't change me!!
because I don't want to
Help me grow
even in a way that is out of your will
Let me learn from you
so I also have something to offer
Set me free, for my heart to expand
til the edge of the space
until it grows fonder
You watered the flowers where it blooms within me
when it takes a lot of persistence
to keep them alive
Don't scrub off the scars
marked by the pocks of hurt
because it's how I get here
how I empathize with others' pain
that made me realize how much people needs people

My ache chose you long time ago
over a thousand splendors
But you still wanted anybody else
and shun my embodied pool of stitched soul.

My exhaustion is picky;
It says, "No, I don't want to do this anymore".
Neither there are reasons nor none why it causes me to be sad  momentously, it doesn't even matter.
Just as long as it is buried down my chest until I feel a pang of ache,
I'm sure, tears will be the backwash behind all of these.

Should I be glad for I'll soon let go
of the discreet cord you used to girdle around my neck
Or should I feel the resentment for hurting you while I'm in pain?
I apologize
for being stuck between
experiencing the pang of guilt and innocence.
But encompassing all of these,
I'll set you out single-handedly
knowing I'll be gone even though
I'm still here
caring
caring
caring
and still caring about you.
I'm in such a chaos for convincing myself that I do care
but showing you the exact opposite thing.
Nonetheless, I'll be gone.
But never, ever left.