Getting old: I look

carefully at the flower --


Today I still can.

Those cursed with observer's eyes
watch without sound
in the loud crash of a city's downfall
Although a curse,
those blessed with those eyes
can build kingdoms
with just a look
But silent, they stay

How can one not be wary of the lord's
great skies
but be aware of every grain
of sand among the stores
How can one watch in quiet
as his superiors fall
but jump at the sound of a mere
whisper

Those cursed stand alone,
but yet everyone lies inside their heart
big, but empty
Silent but yet the windows of the souls
showcase chaos
I always wondered why his eyes looked so sad

Calming, is it not?
To be able to sit--- wait
And watch the clock tick

there was nowhere
in particular
that i had to be
or any real reason
for me to be
where i'd ended up
i had been wandering
most of the day
seeing the sights
but mostly trying
to see the city
in its truest

and so found myself
amidst the bustle
of little market stalls
lining either side
of the path leading
to the centre of
a neighbourhood park
i had wanted a coffee
and was ready to
continue my march
towards a flat-white
but urged myself
to rest my feet
to pause for awhile
and enjoy the theatre
of these unconnected lives
unwittingly intertwined;

the young couple
bartering at a stall
while the elderly pair
laughed in pantomime
as the girl passed by
struggling to control
her overexcited pup
sat there watching
i too had a role
playing a part
in their lives
that i would
never know

I am old, I am

quietly watching the world --


Only now, it's mine.

On the sidelines in

this country unknown to me --


I can safely watch.

Cold, cold ice,
And a

Roll of dice,
Do you

Hear the cries
Of the
Scamp’ring mice

Running
For their lives,

Biting
Down two lies,

And a
Broken

Set of
Eyes.

Their eyes are everywhere; they
Analyse everything I do, I say,
I make;
They take
Me apart piece by
Piece; they feed on my
Soul. Their eyes, more
Like mouths, devouring me before
I even more; lashes more
Like teeth, claw
ing at my skin.
Their eyes that know
They'll always win;
Their eyes that glow
Red in the dark (surely
They aren't human?) staring me
Down at every corner. Their
Eyes on my every hair,
Cell, atom. My mother says
There's no way
I'm not exaggerating but then again,
My family's eyes are
Those never too far
From my back. Always.
Always watching. Day
After day I pass
The eyes as I walk to/from class,
To/from home, on the way
To/from the MRT.
I see
Them watching me,
Watching everyone else, eyes
Slowly being pried
From screen to person, then onto
The next. Me. Them. You.
I watch as silently,
They tear me
Apart, then move onto the next.
I pretend
To look down, text a friend,
But my eyes are always open.
Their shift's done for the day.
Time to find our new prey.

You used to watch me with your deep brown eyes sparkling.

Sharing your pain is the cure for a great deal of pain
Scars that turn into melodies; wounds into stories
Gaping holes into beautiful forests, and broken hands
Into hearts that cradle your soul

Sharing your pain and watching others perceive it
Is the balm to a lot of misery, a promise that
No matter what, you’re not alone
And there are people wandering those forests with you
Holding your heart in their careful hands