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  Jun 2016 Sekar Hardani
m i a
bruises, cuts, and scars can go away,
but words, but words, but words,
will always stick and s t a y.
physical things hurt less then words for me.
  Jun 2016 Sekar Hardani
The stage has been set
Nature anxiously waits to see
How the Earth intends
To transform a seed into a tree

Cloaked beneath the soil
Hidden far from sight
Strengthened by the rains
Nourished by the light

And perhaps magic does exist
Just undetected to the human eye
Because that tiny little seed
Has now risen to the sky
Sekar Hardani Jun 2016
And so I took a deep breathe,
and start again.
Everyone pushes me.

I'm tired.
I'm tired.

I'm not good enough in faking.
I'm not good enough in faking,
a love.
I'd rather love someone I can't have, than have someone I can't love.
Sekar Hardani May 2016
"wanna go to the park?"* he asked.

That was the first time I feel a weird beat in my chest.

We went to the park.
I saw him sipping his soda; but I know he's sipping out his pain.
I saw him knocking his knuckles to the tree, as we laugh to Family Guy; but I know he's knocking out his fears.
I saw him moving closer next to me, because the rest of the bench is wet; but I know he's moving closer to a temporary source of happiness.
Sekar Hardani May 2016
People are like rain.
They are falling,
and crashing.
They thought that was meant to be;
and crashing down to the earth.
They thought that's just how life works.
They thought life could only throw them down.

I was one of them, back then.
Until I melt down into a pool of storms.
I was falling,
and crashing,
and crawling.
Until I found myself sprawl in the middle of the storm, flowing with the others.

But I stopped.

And bless myself among happiness; rain.
Sekar Hardani May 2016
Life is too short to go to the same coffee shop every morning,
sipping another Vanilla Latte to start the day.
To walk on the same road all over again.
To wear the same shirt every week.

But he is not like that.

He eats cereal for his dinner,
and grapes for the next day,
or maybe sausages.

He buys different kind of breakfast,
from different kind of stores every morning.

Today he use bike to work,
and tomorrow he will use bus,
but last week he used taxi,
because he just received his first check.

He drops out of school,
because he don't like school.

He also don't celebrate birthdays.

That's what I like about him.
He opens different kind of door every morning,
expecting another surprise for that day.
Craving for another adventure,
waiting for another experiences.

He is always new,

He is always mad.
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