They cannot ignore us anymore.
They cannot **** us all.
They cannot tear us apart and treat us like garbage on the side of a busy street.
They throw tear gas and gunfire.
Bullets ricochet.
We still keep fighting.
They cannot take away our rights without a fight.
We stand together as one nation fighting for what is ours.
We will never back down.
We will never fall silent.
Police brutality, dictatorship, basic human rights.
We need to be heard.
Our voices will ring.

It's 3 AM

And i keep trying to figure myself out


Ordinary questions...
things we all ask of ourselves everyday


But I guess I expected something a little more definite from myself


I keep remembering eyes

Different eyes, different looks of disdain, different continents, different faces, different genders

Broad spectrum of statistics

I wonder what exactly anyone is here for


I find it difficult to discern why are these people in my space?

It's so difficult to tell

Courtesy? Loneliness? Fascination? Routine? Misguided sense of doing good? Misguided sense of displacement? Some mid-life crisis? Need to be diverted? Curiousity?

Ah, it's just too difficult.


Why do you linger around?
Someone answer please.
Hey, its 3 AM here and I haven't been able to sleep in days.

who said i needed SOS
to heal these wounds
when i all needed was XOX
just from you?

i had chocolate for dinner,
and cried right after.
maybe it was too sweet
but mom have you ever wondered

that maybe the memories of my love and i
were the ones causing it?

i took a longer time in the shower
and still cried right after.
maybe she bathes too slow
but daddy have you ever wondered

that maybe the memories of my love and i
were the ones causing it?

i stay up late at night while blood lies there
still i cried right after.
maybe she is just crying again
but sister have you ever wondered

that maybe the memories of my love and i
were the ones causing it?

my eyes are more distant, the songs i sing are too
i compose and cry right after
maybe it's just another night
but brother have you ever wondered

that maybe the memories of my love and i
were the ones causing it?

this is not a cry for a help

this is a story

the story of a girl who used to smile a lot and laugh at the right times. the story of a bright beautiful girl with pretty soft skin and freckles on her nose. this the story of a girl with vibrant black hair and sparkling blue eyes.

this is the story of a girl who worked hard in school because she wanted to go somewhere. this is the story of a girl who pushed herself to be the greatest she could possibly be. this is the story of a girl who cared and cared and worked and worked...

until one day she stopped.

this is the story of a girl who has had enough. the story of a girl who had been pushed too hard to keep on going. this is the story of a girl with no way out. this is the story of a girl who can't cope anymore.

this is the story of a girl who can no longer smile without crying, and whose laugh is cold and void of emotion. this is the story of a sad girl with bumpy red skin that is covered with scars and cuts. this is the story of a girl with dull black hair and empty eyes.

this is not a cry for help

this is a story

the story of a girl who no longer cared.

(a.d)

I like how I am slowly
                                          fading away
                                                           ­       and you don't even notice.

I like how I desperately
                                             need you
                                                  and you don't even give me a hand.
I like how I need you to
                                           notice me
                                                      and you don't even look my way.
I like how I am
                                          dying inside
                                                         ­             and you don't even care.

(a.d)

No facade elaborate enough
To adequately conceal
The inner-conflict
In which I am embroiled

No crooning of comfort
Can delivery me peace
Or forestall my mind's
Eventual unhinging

No foxed, tattered pages
Of forlorn loveletters
Strewn with stark promises
Can resurrect my will

My compass confiscated
My map of reason
Torn and trampled upon
My future at the mercy of shadows