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a daydreamer Jan 2018
I love the way the flower blooms
In my garden, like a thousand hopes
Sprinting out. It reminds of my home,
Of tweeting sounds, of the tick-tack-toe
From my grandfather's cane, or the
Old songs he used to sing.

I love the way the hot breeze
Whispers onto my ears. It reminds
Of summer days in my room,
Watching movies or listening to
Pop-indie songs, and the smiles
Of my old lovers in middle school.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
The moon reminds me of you;
It stands proud and high,
Alone in the dark,
Yet charming enough to catch,
The stars to hold and lean.

Fortunately,
I'm one of the stars.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
Disana,
Diantara bisingnya kerumunan kota,
Aku berdiri sejenak,
Mendengar alunan musik mengendus sajak.

Beberapa pasangan mata menoleh,
Menutur, menyinyir,
Mengikuti bayangan dosa lama
Yang telah tenggelam,
Dilahap oleh manisnya senyum
Dan tawa para badut malam.

Lepuh, rasanya.
Lilin-lilin yang menginduk di kulitku kian meletih
Teriak pedih tak kunjung hari
Terhambur sudah harapan palsu ini.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
Please don't stop
sauntering around
For each step you take
will be the quickest ride
to heaven up there.

For the tears you hold
and the sorrow you face
will vanish, and be replaced
by the dazzling sunlight.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
I am the queen of my kingdom
the knight of my castle
the protector of my realm
and I will not let anyone
destroy what is mine
even my soul.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
I want to escape-
and dream with the stars.
wrap my naked soul
with the warm night sky.
a daydreamer Jan 2018
I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I play dolls with my old self and she catches me dripping blood.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I sing songs of death with the ghosts in my bathroom and she can hear through aluminium door.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I sit on the edge of my bedroom and whispered to my best friend, but she only watches and eyes glint of sorrow.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. But she keeps quiet and cooks for my meal.

I THINK MY MAMA is afraid of me and my ghosts. She doesn't want to talk about my sorrow and pain, afraid that my blood will splash her long white dress.
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