I used to write the most beautiful things
When I feel loved for everything.

Flowers grew on papers
with every words written down,
Pain has never spoken

I always savor
what's in his favor,
Even I drench in ink
by the thorns he pricked

Storm crossed the yard
In the waves I tried to linger
Left soaking in tears
Waiting for the sunshine
Waiting for it to end

As sweet as yesterday
Captivated by his fragrance
Now I cannot breathe
I want to escape this maze of wilted roses

What have I done?
Why I'm no longer safe in my own garden?

Lost with the clouds
Sadness was profound
You came and painted new colors in this miserable life
I was found

From disgrace
You embraced me
As I suffer illness
You cured me

Even trouble I become
No hesitation, you choose me
Thank you so much for saving me
You are now my forever paradise.

With lonely nights like this, I keep on questioning my existence:
"What is the purpose of life?", "What is the purpose of my existence?", "Why I'm like this?", "Do I deserve to be loved?"

"Who am I?"

Every once in a while, very unpleasant or disturbing thoughts come into my head. It begs for those questions. I felt plagued by thoughts and images that I couldn't stand but I learned to embrace them with arms wide open, intrusive thoughts are now normal.
It consumed me alive. Beautifully. Wonderfully.
This feels very ****** and embarrassing. I got to admit that I don't really feel like I belong to anywhere. I've found it difficult to relate to anyone. I can't figure out myself, and what I will be everyday.

Here's the thing: I have two souls inside this not-so-**** body.
I feel okay in some days, and less in others.
I'm strong but I'm afraid. I'm tough yet vulnerable.
I was born to be pretentious. Everyday I struggle living a high-functioning public persona at work so I would look normal and ordinary, but in the back of my mind, I am this insane ***** who wants to cut off all of their heads and put it in my altar.
I can easily laugh at silly jokes but I find it more funny if I'll stab people in the face and gouge their eyes out and eat it.
When I am having these morbid thoughts, I just want to sit down in the corner, calm down and not to talk to anyone.
Or listen to Xasthur and meditated. Or take psilocybin mushroom and smoke ****.
Or simply hang myself and dance in the air with the marks of crisscross red in my fair skin (which I sometimes hate because that makes me attractive. I hate being liked for how I look. You'll never hear anyone says "Hey, check out the brain on that babe." Sad truth.)

I always believe that life in itself serves no ultimate purpose.
Life is meaningless but we need to live for the mean time.
Although, it is not the reason why I am sad, depressed, and lonely. Since everything is pointless for me, there's no point of choosing to be sad but it looks like sadness took me over and made a home out of her.

Even I am creepy at times, I am still this girl who loves Disney and just wants to wear a long white dress and run into the magical woods to find my prince who will kiss me passionately and save me from this agony. I am that desperate in seeking love in this universe I need to live in, but also desperately avoiding it. So, after that kiss, I will push him away because I cannot stay. I have nothing to give. Nothing matters, even myself. This is why I lose people in my life. Because who would choose to stay with someone who can't even figure herself out? Who would be willing to walk to the end of the earth to find out these things with her?

These are the thoughts I cannot simply tell anyone. I feel so shallow for feeling everything so deep. Why can't I be ordinary and follow the norm? I don't have the answers yet. I don't think I will ever have. All I know is that I have two voices inside my head.

I don't know how to express that I feel so empty without making it sound so sad?
I wish I weren't so sad, I wish I didn't want to disappear in the darkness right away so I could stay happy in this dimension, even for a while.

I feel like I am trapped in a book.
I don't know what page I am right now, but I hope that this page will be ripped off and will have no important role in the story, so if I'm gone, the characters of the book wouldn't mourn for someone who didn't even want to exist.

But as much as I would want to, this book that I am in is not yet finished so I need to continue with my role.
Whoever the invisible space phantom that watches over us,
Please take me to the inevitable end. Or write another story where my name will not be written.
Because I am tired of spending my life dying inside.

Right in the middle of my dreadful life
You color it with a blissful love
Love, that somehow, made me realize
that reality can be a paradise

For a while, it works
Yet time passes by,
It fades

Looking at those sprinkled glitters in the sky
like how I used to gaze in your eyes,
I remembered all the promises
That you shattered into pieces

I suddenly fall into sadness so sweet
that memories sneak out of my eyes,
As my imaginations, filled with our images
River of tears continuously flows

You were the wish I wish upon a shooting star
You were the prince I fantasied in my fairy tale
You were the inspiration of my dreams
You were a glimpse of my everything.

As I sigh a smoke of sadness
drunk on the idea of happiness
As the wind blows by
I  just let myself fly high.

Burdened by obligation
words painted with emotion
Defy the fragile fear
Now, show no tear

Resurrect the darkest soul
deafened silent screams
by countless promises
that is not truthfully spoken

In my dreams
you found me.

3:00am poems
were my soul laid bare
Few pages of pain and silence,
still you find beauty in them

I'll write metaphors to make you stay
Sweet prose, and roses, for you everyday
Please remain enjoying the saddest lines
because I do, I always do

3:00am poems
were heartbreaking tale
Few pages of joy ripped off
still I will live and find beauty in them

Papercuts will remind me of you
remembering when you stopped reading them
remembering when you stopped loving them
because I never did, but I hope I did

Once upon a time..

you found me

in my dreams

reality's nightmare.

Dark and gloomy
You took a picture of me,
I'm like a shadow in the daylight
I'd disappear in the absence of light.
But darling, I want you to know,
even I'm not pretty and it was a blurry picture
it feels like you gave me a clear capture.

I am a good thinker
yet a bad writer

However, I am a dreamer
so I will keep on writing
like a child keeps on drawing.

She came to you quietly
A whisper you could barely hear
Hurts from the past
Stuck her on melancholy
Sadness between her eyes
Blur all the lines

In disguise of a beauty,
is an everlasting mystery
She is just a broken soul
Added to your diary

Soon she will be the past
Soon she will be forgotten
History of a beautiful ecstasy
My love poetry.

I bleed red on the paper white sheets
wondering why spaces still exist,
Saddest lines can no longer be seen
Not on the paper, but they're on my skin
Wished to be an art hanging on the ceiling
thought my life is all about failing

Once blinded in the starlight deep within your eyes
awakened by the meteors and shooting stars,
I've found galaxy in mine.

No metaphor can beautify
the poems wasted named after you.
A paper plane, a love letter to my demons
Slowly forgetting my favorite poetry of all.

Every stroke between these lines
are consequences of misdeed in the past
Now, drips of heartache
spills across this page without control.

One day without warning someone will come into your room
He will see a beautiful girl sitting right in the corner,
Head bowed-down in despair
Holding knees, dropping tears
In an isolated place that depicts the past.

As he walks through the halls to the path towards her
He looked around and noticed the designs of concealed walls
Somewhere in between of tragedy and misery it shows
How love just come and go.

It was a proof that someday, somewhere,
Someone existed
But realized it was a wrong room he got into.
He envisions himself to be that lucky guy
Purity and sincerity touched his soul

He gave a hand for her to hold
Stood her up and genuinely smiled
Grasped her to his arms tightly
And maybe, that's his answer.

It was dark and quiet
Lurking in the midst of this forest
Standing drenched in tears
With the thought of you, my dear.

It has been on your mind
You cringe with the thought of it
But you became a victim
of wanting to do what you fear the most.
Driven by painful memories
you kept shoving into the corner,
It pushed you over the edge
and onto the ground below.
******-suicide.

I am helpless..

Isn't it a good day, mom?
The sun's up! Just moved into our new home. It was in a rush, but it's fine.
I like it wherever you want us mom.

I found you in the living room, watching TV while drinking the 2nd bottle of your favorite red wine, as red as the roses in our old backyard. I remembered us playing there while wearing my jersey no. 28, your favorite number. I love you that much, mom!

It didn't feel like I left our old house. Though good memories come with bad memories. I know it's not your intention to shove me that hard when I hit my head on the wall or when you draw deep lines on my skin with a knife. It hurts so much, but it will heal. Countless of times it happened, but it's okay mom. You just love me, right?

Still in the living room, on your 3rd or 4th bottle, skipping on endless channels, you stopped on the news.

"A body was found buried in a backyard full of roses. Autopsy found out that the body has been stabbed to death: 28 times."

Mom, why?