i made a
promise, to myself
that when i get
older, i would
be better than
i was before
but i didn't know
that 'being better',
to other people,
meant
doing impossible
so it's no wonder
that i am no good
       that i cannot do good
that i
cannot
.
.
.
be better
.
.
.

when all
of my effort meant
nothing
to the people i
loved the most

i could walk to places,
i'd meet a lot of people,
among million faces, my eyes encountered,
yours the best, favourable, preferred.
it consists of uneven lids, and that's okay,
perfection doesn't define,
your beauty, symmetry looks strange to me.
rosy cheeks, lips opened emphasises the sweet sweet smile, one drugged me with happiness.
so i began, one, two,
counting moles littered on you,
prominent one, faded one,
one hugging your nose,
one kissing the side of your lips.
my favourite,
the one holding your soft cheek.
It caresses you always,
I like to pretend its me, holding on to you
so dearly.
Tiny specks of beauty,
enhanced soft angelic physiognomy.
No one can hold on to you stronger,
Than those moles,
Forever rid my somber.

- kimin

Deep wounds with an invisible mark.

Carved by one I used to love; a love that never loved back.

Used, to be replaced with a friend.

A better body and high narcissism,

someone who wasn't afraid to use others,

also played with my heart.

They left me exposed,

Told people something that I am not.

Forced myself to become something I was not,

just for them to walk all over me.

He threatened to hurt my friends, dignity and poise,

She ruined potential love for me, dignity and poise.

The laughter and love I once had has left me.

Yet I feel sorry.

I felt love for them.

I always feel like I'm in the wrong and shouldn't say anything,

That I deserve the labels I'm given.




I know that's false,

that I can find love as true as can be;

also live with the emotional scars.

With time, comes a fork in the road to growth and self recovery.