i just lit up a matchstick,
like a rock striking the bed of still water,
creating ripples seemingly impossible to control.
the matchstick ignited the moment it made contact
with the red phosphorus on the box's side.
it burnt so bright, so sharp—
i watched flickers of it, the tiny fire—a world of its own.
the flame started blue at the centre,
turned white, orange, red, and a bright yellow.
was this the sunshine's glow?
or the fire that grew from it?

i watched the match start to shrivel up,
the tip that burnt the brightest went down the fastest.
it dropped on my skin,
left a tiny scar in its midst.
and then the stick caught fire—
slowly, gradually, it ate itself up.
the world swallowed itself whole—
the world that the matchstick had created on its own.

such innocence. i wonder if it had life—
oh, but it did have life.
born with it—well, made the way it is supposed to be:
burn, leave a light, which lasts longer.
the originator of the fire, further.
and it dies because of its own existence.
the box that it comes within
carries what brings it to its ending.

and all those, multiple—oh so many,
that come within a box like a well-settled family,
leave one by one, burning themselves apart.
i wonder if the ones remaining behind know their part?

isn't that the irony of human beings as well?
our own worlds, created by us alone—
swallowing us whole,
and often the ones to bring us to ruin: our own.

sometimes i wonder
if i were to kiss the flame,
pull it in my arms, hug it, and set myself on fire—
would our worlds collide?
would i break the loop of life?
would i find the warmth i require,
or would i too turn to ash,
like the matchstick as my friend?

what would it say—
the flame, as it embraces me in return?
would it be like the caress of a mother’s hand,
or the sizzling burn of my father’s?
would this comfort be my destruction?

i wonder if the matchstick ever regretted its purpose.

Enveloped by the fog
I take another step
Though where I'll go
I do not know
The path ahead's unclear

And every step I take
Reminds me of the last
Each passing year
Upon this earth
A time that's come and passed

In truth, I have a dream
To find a place called home
To feel secure
At where I stand
To cease my endless roam

My feet have long gone numb
They move instinctively
Devoid of shoes
Battered and bruised
No footprints left behind

In constant search of friends
My last one left too soon
She took two steps
To one of mine
And still she passed me by

Da-dum da-dum da-dum
My heart, I feel it beat
Heavy and cold
Broken in half
Perhaps it needs a change

My gaze falls on the moon
A drink to ease the pain
The light it shines
Into my eyes
Brings me to tears tonight

For half the night I lay
Awake and lost in thought
I feel confined
By wasted time
Yet sleep through half the day

Once the rain has passed
And sunshine is renewed
The muddy ground
Still slows me down
Each step a sinking tomb

I fear I've gone astray
Through many thorny paths
The countless scars
May never heal
I run but cannot hide

A ghoul is chasing me
It leads me to the grave
A lifeless place
My life's disgrace
A shell of who I am

A puppet hung from strings
Directed by my hands
I walk again
Into the fog
To find a distant land

I smile at the moon
My one and only friend
So far away
But always there
And will be 'til the end

Somewhere far away where nothing looks the same
I could see a pretty dancing dandelion dame

Nobody would rob her from her joy
and nobody saw her as a toy

she danced and danced with a smile
she could go on dancing for a while

she had no doubts, no insecurities, no fear
because no humans or danger were anywhere near

Oh, dandelion dame, I wish I was you in some way
because humanity, reality and this city are grey

A binding rope to consecrate two souls
In union beautiful and ever strong,
Like sun and rain in complementary roles.
Each honoring each as royalty enthroned,
They build their kingdom, shared a whole life long
In joy and bliss to cherish what they've sown.
Love is one thing I've never truly known.

No Room to Fall

There’s no room to fall when you’re called a man,
You must rise each time, no matter the plan.
You slip, you fail, you bruise your pride—
But strength, they say, must never hide.

You stumble once, they watch you close,
And label you what hurts the most.
One lost job, one broken dream—
You’re lazy now, or so they deem.

No space to doubt, no time to rest,
You’re expected always to give your best.
And if your knees begin to shake,
They’ll ask what shortcut you might take.

No margin granted, no grace applied,
Just pressure mounting deep inside.
You fake a smile, suppress the fears,
And build a dam to hold back tears.

For women fall and find a hand,
But men must rise and always stand.
“Be a rock,” they say, “be the wall,”
But rocks can crack—and walls can fall.

So you wear the armor, cold and thin,
While dying slow beneath your skin.
And heaven weeps where man won't speak—
His pain dismissed, his soul turned weak.

But there’s a Rock who knows it all,
Who sees the slips, who broke the fall.
Who knelt inside a garden’s cry,
And bore our burdens just to die.

So fall, dear man, but fall in grace.
Let God rebuild the hollow place.
The world won’t catch what it won’t see,
But Christ still whispers, “Lean on Me.”

Tears squeezing one by one
From eyes that feign untroubled sleep
Slowly flows
From taut cheeks
Quivering from suppression
Of lips dying to scream out
The words of frustrations
The sentences of antagonism
The paragraphs of vulnerability
That is never allowed to be free
And how they trickle one by one,
Slowly dampening
The pillow that witnesses
All the defenselessness
Of a lonely girl
With voice that shouts
Yet unheard and unsung,
With eyes that implores
Yet unseen and unperceived,
With hands that reaches
Yet untook and ungrasped,
With a heart that waits
Yet forgotten and abandoned.