He knew he was right
And nothing stopped him
From proving it
Not the gradual diminishing
Of his friends
Nor a famine of encouragement
From his family
Not a single word of appreciation
From his loved ones
Nor
And never either or whatever

Being useful
and
being valued
are. two. different. things.

Your drawn-out eyelashes
Veiling your charming eyes, cosy
I just need you to glare at me
Once again—after years

Your long, tiny legs, mellow
Walks so smooth and ****
Oh, I wish you'd walk
Straight into my arms once again

Your nose, pointed, coquette
With intractability so exquisite
And skin so dark, and smooth melanin
A skin I wish to touch once again

Your laughter, definitely your emblem
When you smile or even get angry
Your beauty is still untethered
I pray you smile at me once again

And your lips, tastes like honey
Oh, what would I give for another kiss
Oh, what would I give
To meet you once again

The harder it is
The greater the pleasure

To some,
It's just a new day
Like the days before this;
A change in a date
Like 2021 changing into 2022;
There's nothing special about today
Cuz "New Year New Me" is a myth
That's what I used to believe
Until 2020,
When I realized that there's more
It's not just arithmetic figures
But it's the start of a new beginning
Of our lives journey
To the future
Where unending opportunities await
To better education, skills and lives
Get closer to our family and friends
Build broken relationships
Work out on our bodies
Be kind to strangers and the needy
Quit drinking and smoking
Practice financial management
And it all starts with a checklist,
A plan to execute it
Achieve each of them
And review for progress

I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads
what you see from a distance
wave hands
say hello to you.
I've been confused
ever since stand alone in the crowd,
no one sees me
except for a pair of eyes
that is lodged in people's heads
which I never knew before;
and the clouds turn blue but don't hurt flowing right over the head
then the birds rise expel the wind
who had tossed my long hair.
I just stare at them,
hope they don't look at me.
However, the world suddenly stopped. And my world seems to have a limit
to transcend isolation.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
which has been left behind by old memories,
and when the new comrades have become adept at reading signs,
and therefore we have bonded
like a relationship
that we are not really aware of.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
greet you as a stranger too,
but now everyone is busy making their own festival,
and don't ask,
I make a festival for whom,
except for the day
when I'm not known anymore.

I was woken up by a nightmare.
I woke up in the middle of the night
when I had fallen asleep
and a poem was finished.
The silence makes the painting 
in the air I breathe,
feel heavy, feel suffocating.
My throat is dry.
And on such a thirsty night,
a poem ordered an inkbox
and a piece of paper,
and I ordered a bottle of beer
and a cigarette and also a lighter,
and night ordered

itself for me.