reflection,
I see a real beauty
wait, that's not me
but my sister
standing beside
a shabby ol' me

reflection,
trying to catch you
everywhere I go,
but you seem to
avoid me in
all possibilities

reflection,
I look again and see
sometimes I wish the
one staring back
is not me

reflection,
my reflection is sad
what's wrong?
are you mad,
that you're me?

happy new year,
never thought that
the current me wants to
celebrate another year;
filled with uncertainties -
but countless possibilities

because every time I feel sad,
my mind tells me that it's bad,
to have feelings of feelings suppressed,
there's no difference from the undead.

of course, yes I know,
there's no cure in just one go,
but my heart - even tied with a rope,
there's a glimmer of hope

I wish not,
to write anything,
about love that is
metaphorically
related to Christmas.

how can we forget
that Christmas is
the day where we
rejoice for the Son
and not for the
Sun of your life.

how can we forget
that Christmas is
about giving
your heart to God,
and not giving it
to someone who
might break it.

Alright,
let's get real.

Christmas,
there's nothing
greater than celebrating
the one and only Him,
with words and verses,
written for no one,
but Him.

icarus,
fell to the ground,
because he flew
too close to the sun
and got his wings
melted away.

I,
fell to the ground
because I grew
too close to you,
and got my heart
melted away.

two beer towers,
two types of taste,
one felt bitter,
one felt sweet,
beer bears sadness,
beer breaks happiness

the first time I
emptied the tower
was the first time
the beer tasted sweet

drowning in my bitterness
of anger and anguish
dazing over my cups,
why did beer taste
sweeter as it brews
through the cracks of
a shattered heart
and bottled emotions

the second time I tried
to empty the tower
was the first time
the beer tasted bitter

laughing with silliness
of joy and appreciation,
couldn't make it past
my third cup,
why do beer taste
bitter when you're
drunk with happiness
with people who matter.

sol,
an abbreviation of solar,
as I hope to wake up
every morning,
shining bright.

fang,
the marking bore,
by the greatest beasts,
as I hope to stand up
to fight fears,
every day.

but as saying goes,
a strong-willed name
cannot be given to
a weak-minded person

don't let self-worth,
become something
that's not from
your own self,
but from the
opinions of others.

you said I'm complicated,
i say you're confusing,
you said you don't
know what I'm thinking,
i say you never want to
know what I'm thinking,
you said you rather be friends,
i say I want it to be more,
you said you wanted to talk,
i say I don't really feel like it,
you said you're not prepared
to love anyone,
I say you're just not prepared
to reject me properly.

what's the point
in this game of love,
if both of us can't agree
to the same **** thing.

I'm addicted to my favourite
non-existent recreational drug,
cueing in; compulsive lying.

The additional side effects
to my mind, soul and heart,
ain't as bad as I thought.

When I'm being questioned
about my troubling mental health,
I lied straight through my teeth,
that nothing could **** me,
yet I wanted to **** myself
the exact same hour.

I once lied to a friend that,
I will stay by her side
but in actuality,
I didn't even want to
stay in this world

But the biggest lie
that ever happened
is by telling myself
that I will soon be alright,
and lying is my only
coping mechanism

I think.

You know what I love
about this addiction,
is that it's a distraction
from the real harm,
which is self-actualisation,
of my ailing self.

I wish to be
an infamous serial killer,
that targets love-thirsty men.

I mean,
wouldn't it be interesting
to slash through their hearts,
with sharp, flirtation glances,
or cutting through entrails
to look for stomach butterflies,

what about blowing up their minds,
when I don't respond to convos,
and kneeing them with shrugs
till they beg for attention.

alas,
I was victimised,
before I can even morph into
a cold-blooded murderer myself

everyone agrees that you're
tasteless and flavourless
when it comes to
choosing the ingredients
to make the dough for love.

similar to a slice of
cold, leftover pizza,
hated like pineapples
as the toppings,
slapped on like a can of
expired tomato sauce,
cut away like
unwanted crustings,
and being as cheap as
a low-quality mozzarella.

definitely
loved by me
but purely hated
by the entire world.

the school bell rings sharply
at nine-twenty in the morning,
echoes across the classroom,
are the usual 'Selamat Pagi, cikgu'.

fast forward to nine-forty,
boring lessons and classes
requires essay crafting
and dream jobs listing,
instead, we wrote fan letters
to be the filial wives of
members from boybands

fast forward to noon,
we were hooked on stories,
from breakups of social divas
to everyone's future college plans.
those were the days,
that should never end.

fast forward to today,
it's now nine-twenty,
greetings for teachers,
are now meetings with bosses,
essays are now reports,
compadres are now colleagues.

memories are the sweet
in the word 'bittersweet',
and I'm starting
to miss the taste,
every time the clock strikes
exactly at nine-twenty.

I am glad,
my possible lover,
that you weren't with
someone that I
don't know

but being
happily together now
with my best friend.

Attentive, attentive, I was,
wrapped in your insanity
and hypnotically agreed
to ****** your parents
out of passion and love
for the menacing you.

we escaped chases
like true madmen,
and for a moment you
felt like my forever after.

I wondered why I still love you,
even when I figured that
you sold me out to the cops
and ended up questing for
another partner-in-crime
by yourself.

I never heard of
stories larger than skies,
but yours differ,
I want to explore
a galaxy made from
your broken boulevards
I boarded your ship,
and sadly realised
I wasn't your
ideal co-pilot

standing under
yellow flicker lights
reminds me of the day,
our hands slowly met,
barely held or touched
and laughter echoes
the entire street,
but yellow flicker lights,
of today only revealed
undisclosed desires,
for the past you

The eyes you stared
aren't the same shade,
the hands you held
aren't the same size,
your heartbeats
aren't the same rhythm,
and with that,
I'll never replace her