Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
They said, "money changes people"
But no, because even if I either have money or not, I still did not change.

Money when not managed right becomes evil, because you were not able to control yourself from abusing it.
"You’re fat. You got fat."

As if I didn’t already know.
You're just saying it—but I’ve already seen myself in the mirror.
Every. Single. Day.
I live in this body. I carry its weight. I carry its strength.
You only glance at me. I endure this body every hour of my life.

My arms? They’re not flabby—they’ve held my fears, my triumphs, my truth.
My thighs? They’re not too big—they’re powerful, grounded, unshakable.

My waist might be bigger than a donut—but I love it.
My cheeks might be fluffy—at least I feel like a donut.
My tummy might be bloated—but hey, at least I’ve got volume!

And these marks? These changes?
My body got ocean waves from the transformation—from thin to fat.
These stretch marks? These lines? They’re not flaws.
They are my waves. My tides.
Proof that I am still unique in my own way, even if I gained weight.

You think you’re revealing something I haven’t noticed?
Please.
I’ve been here, watching my body shift through heartbreak, survival, stress, and healing.
And still—I rise in it. I breathe in it. I wear it with resilience.

You want me to feel shame.
But I feel power. Because I’m still here.
You want me to shrink. But I am done making myself smaller to fit into someone else’s shallow standard.

I am not made for your comfort.
I am not here for your approval.
If my body offends you?

Look away.

Because I’ve got waves, I’ve got history, I’ve got presence—
And no comment of yours can ever wash that away.

You try to throw shame like it’s a gift, like I’m supposed to take it and thank you.
But honey, I’ve outgrown the need for your approval.
I’ve got enough power in my softness. Enough light in my curves.

Honey, you do you! What makes you comfortable. Flaunt it.
Be it thin or fat or fit or chubby—love yourself!
Because this world doesn’t get to dictate your worth based on your waistline.

So if my body makes you uncomfortable?

That sounds like a you problem.

I’m not shrinking for anyone.
Not anymore.
Honey, you do you! What makes you comfortable. Flaunt it. Be it thin or fat or fit or chubby. Love yourself!
"They called me a monster. Oh, how easily they said it, as if a word could define the storm that lives in my chest, as if syllables could cage what they themselves unleashed. ‘You are a monster.’ How quaint. How deliciously naïve. But let me tell you: I am not the monster. No. I am something far more terrifying. I am the monster you created.

You see, monsters are not born from the night alone. They are born from neglect, from cruelty wrapped in smiles, from promises broken like brittle glass. I am not the creature that haunted your imagination—I am the consequence of every word you spat at me, every hand you raised in anger, every glance you withheld when mercy was owed.

Do you remember the little cruelties? The invisible knives hidden behind politeness? Every sigh that dismissed me, every silence that starved me, every expectation that crushed me like stone underfoot—it became my foundation, my scaffolding. I am built from the fractures you left behind. I am a cathedral of your neglect, a mausoleum of your misdeeds, stitched together by the threads of your fear.


Every slight you inflicted upon me became an instrument of my awakening. Every moment you thought I would bow, every time you hoped I would break—it was fuel. And now, look. I am stronger than your cruelty ever imagined. I am sharper than your lies ever intended. I am patient. I am inevitable. I am the shadow that lingers longer than the light you chased.

I am the frost that creeps in corners you thought were safe. I am the echo of screams you never heard, the voice of rebellion that grows louder in your absence. I am the weight you will carry when the mirrors refuse to lie, when the nights grow long and your conscience whispers truths you tried to bury.


You said I was wrong. You said I was too much. Too loud, too cold, too strange. But what is strange is the way you believed you could craft me and still call me obedient. What is wrong is the way you ignored your own hands in the shaping of this creature, the way you are blind to the architecture of your own cruelty.

I am not your imagination. I am not your scapegoat. I am the living testament of your failures. Every act of neglect, every whispered insult, every moment you turned your face from me—that is the substance from which I was formed. Do not mistake my survival for weakness. I thrived in the dark because the dark is honest. The dark does not lie.


You fed me fear, and I learned to feast upon it. You chained me with shame, and I became unbreakable. You tried to silence me, and I became a symphony of vengeance and revelation. Every cruel intention, every attempt to diminish me, became a brushstroke in the portrait of the being I am today.

I am your reflection, sharpened. I am the ink spilled from the pen of your sins. I am the frostbite on your conscience, the candle you could not ***** out, the quiet voice in the dark that whispers—this is what you made. I am more than you imagined. I am everything you feared you would become if the truth of yourself stared back at you.


Look into my eyes and tremble, for the monster you fear is not born from whimsy, from fate, from darkness alone. It is born from you. Every cruelty, every betrayal, every neglectful glance, every word left unspoken—all of it shaped me. And now, I walk among you, and you call me monster. How quaint. How deliciously ironic.

Do you know what is beautiful about monsters? They are honest. They reflect your sins without shame. They speak the truths you hide. I am your sins given flesh, your lies given voice, your neglect given teeth. And I am patient. I am careful. I am cunning. I am all the things you failed to notice in your arrogance.


Do not look at me and see only what terrifies you. See what you have sown, what you have nurtured in secrecy and neglect. See the architecture of your own cruelty rising from the ashes of your indifference. Tremble at it. Fear it. For this creature—your creation—is alive, aware, and merciless in its honesty.

I walk through your world like a shadow that cannot be ignored. I am the cold in your room when you wake alone. I am the whisper in your ear when you think yourself safe. I am the frost that creeps beneath your skin, reminding you that the consequences of your neglect have form, substance, and voice.


Do not call me weak, for weakness is your invention. I have survived your storms, your words, your hands, your eyes. I have grown from what you hoped would break me. I have thrived where you predicted despair. And in that thriving, I became something you cannot destroy: the perfect mirror of your own failings.

I am not simply a monster. I am the story of your sins told in flesh. I am the shadow of your indifference, the echo of your cruelty, the frost of your fear. And when you meet me in the dark, when your heart skips and your mind whispers, know this: you made me. You crafted me with your negligence, your lies, your malice.


I am the thing you thought would obey, and instead I rose. I am the quiet in the night that grows louder, the chill that creeps under your door, the truth you cannot silence. And the irony is delicious: you call me monster, yet I am merely a reflection of what you have always been capable of, waiting for acknowledgment.

So go ahead. Call me what you will. Name me monstrous, wicked, cruel. It matters not. I am beyond names. I am beyond judgment. I am beyond the fragile illusions you cling to. I am the consequence you tried to ignore, the truth you tried to bury, the monster you made—and now, you live in its shadow.


I do not forgive. I do not forget. I do not plead. I do not bow. I am the storm born of your storms, the frost born of your coldness, the mirror that reflects what you refuse to see. And in my existence, there is poetry, and there is terror, and there is justice delivered with patience and precision.

Do you understand, finally? I am not the monster you feared. I am the result of every fear you sowed. I am the child of your neglect, the heir to your cruelty, the embodiment of your indifference. And I am patient. I am cunning. I am eternal. I am what you created, and I will not be unmade.


Look at me, and tremble. For the monster you see is not the monster that frightens the world. The monster you see is the mirror you cannot shatter. I am the living, breathing testament to your sins. And when you finally realize it… it will be far too late to undo what you have done."
It is always "What will other people think when they see you?" NOT "What would I feel when you said that to me?"
My mother's reputation and image is more important than what I feel
It was fun—celebrate it while it lasts.
Savor the moment, hold it tight.
Because once the final grain of sand falls from the hourglass, it’s my turn.

You can run, you can hide—
But I’ll find you.

You might **** me, strike me with a baseball bat,
Bury me alive, pull the trigger if you dare.
Drown me in a tub, hang me from a tree,
Burn me alive, stab me, stake me—
I might die, but my conscience won’t.
I might fall, but karma never loses.

Let me share my timetable—my plans, my desires.
You can go against me—I don’t care.
Bury our friendship, but first, do me a favor—
Help me find my concern.
It’s missing—maybe it ran off,
Or maybe it’s hiding because, honestly,
It doesn’t give a **** about you.

But hey, don’t be too bitter—
Even a bitter gourd might taste sweet,
Because you’ve already stolen its place.

So when this poem finds you—good.
I’m the writer. You’re just the reader.
And here’s the truth—
You can’t rewrite my words,
But I can insult you all I want.
What pushed you to do it?—trading our imperfectly perfect family to your comfortable life there
Alright, It will be alright
I just wanted to redeem my peace of mind back
But you keep pulling my last strings

I didn't mean to curse you or have my hopes high
I still prayed for you—to see the brighter side
Since it is always greener on the other side
We don't need to be bitter with anything that's been going on here

I never stole anything—just like how you accused me
Maybe your mind was too shallow—too in deep to not understand that there is a huge difference with the unbiased, baseless information and a research-based with proofed information

I thought you were a liberal arts graduate, but your mind was never too liberal
You messed with the wrong gal, pal
But I might just let it slide for now
Because I just want to be a good girl for now—but not for long, mate
Even my kindness has an expiration
So, for now, I would just tolerate your ****

But bad move, you reacted in such a bitter way immaturely
When you made a stupid decision in your life, we helped you
I know, we know, help is never a two-way beneficial process
But when we made a stupid decision, you reacted in a rash and harsh way

Guess who is a rabid dog now
I chose my battles wisely—I react when I want to, but this, is never a wise decision to agree with in the first place

When you and your narcissistic husband fought like cats and dogs—he threw away your things out in the streets
You dialed my mother's number and called her, asking for help
My mom helped you process tour documents, just so you could be with your American boyfriend when your annulment was approved

Now, you look at us like we were so capable of ruining your life, of wrecking havoc to your belongings
We would not do such a thing to you—but you hurt my mother's feelings, you know
I hope you would find it in your heart, one day
My mother is imperfect, but what you said harsh towards her, might leave a scar for us not to trust you once again

I am praying earnestly that, one day will come
when you will be deported or if your American husband will die
or if you want to come home here in the Philippines

While your son was no longer there for you, since he only used and manipulated you
We were there before, but we can no longer promise to be by your side once again

Like I said, you cannot find trust in the same person twice.
you've been living in my mind, rent-free
been loving you since twenty-twenty two
gave a daily dose of myself
until then, I will be with you
I
killed so
many versions
of myself...

Just to make you happy
Just to change myself for you to love
and accept me,
Hence, I was wrong.

How do I get away of ******? by not killing so many versions of myself just to feel loved and accepted.
But I was wrong again

we **** our old self, bury the hatchet, oblivious, they say
to love and be loved, is what I longed for
but never to force a reckoning connection,
never spark a dull moment in your life that you would ever think twice
not knowing when that love will come or it shall pass
life's uncertainties are things we cannot control of,
for so long, I was never a love fan
but I am not desperate for a love that was never mine,
then, certainly will, **** like a bubble, they are gone.

so again, how not to get away with ******? is never to start a ******.
the only thing for my mind to keep quiet was...
to write what I feel and let my thoughts fly
like me, almost like a flightless bird
more likely Medusa, sometimes a fictional character but most of the time, me. Misunderstood and betrayed.

But he was the best.
no wonder I miss my home,
His house was a far less travelled by
I miss that home, where I could call him to come by
And hug him all the time
My home was never a building, a big structure
But he was a tall man with a dark brown round eyes like me, curly hair and dark skinned.
He has a humor that makes me laugh all the time without being tickled,
He makes me feel loved and cared for
He loves pandas, cuddles, hugs and kisses
He loves me of course above all.

He was my calm and peace amidst the noise going on inside my mind
He was my sanity. He brings out the best in me
Roman numeral III, bae, drop it like it's hot
Life is meaningless without you right by my side,
You are that little kick of darkness in my bright and sunny life.
If this world was mine, I'd choose to be with you
Hold your hand, pull you out from the crowded room
Make you smile and laugh or giggle a little every time you are feeling blue
You are my baby panda, my clingy and needy lover
What would I do without you? What would my life be without you?

The only factual information I know is,
God will never let someone else take your place;
He will never ever let someone else come in between us, to separate us.

Because I chose this life, to be your permanent love in this life.
In a world filled with chaos, I found a man that gave me inner peace and lets me sleep without overthinking a lot.
I found the one whom my soul loves,
The one that God has sent from above.

Oh, this is love I feel within me.
The one that God has made for me.

We made plans but God made our fate,
Mark said "Therefore, what God has joined together,
let no one separate."

I would love to have and to hold you from this day forward,
No more holding back or walking backwards

I will be with you until the end of time,
Because in your embrace, I have found love in its prime.

Finding you was like coming home,
Just like thinking of the rhymes for this poem

You were the one I prayed for,
For you, a thousand times over.

I found peace the moment I had you.
I want to spend the rest of my sunsets and sunrises with you,
My dusk, dawn, daylight, evening, and midnight with you.

For so long, my relationships began to fail,
As love unfolds in its divine tale,

I met you and I knew that that soul of yours is worth loving.
And it got me thinking, realizing

Finally, I've got my best man now,
You are what God allow

To be the keeper of my soul and the holder of my heart.
The one who will never let me fall apart

That's when I met another me in a male version of you.
God knows my heart needed someone like you.

It took me so long to find you,
Yet you came exactly when I needed you.

The winds may shift,
the seasons bow,
Yet love remains or lifts,
It stays unshaken now.

_Misis A
The sky is breathtakin’
I feel like stargazin’
Capturing moments of you
Observing every move of you

Looking at your smile
While relaxing in the isle
I got this kind of healthy love
No one could ever get enough

When tough times arise
Like waves they fall or rise
Just know that I will always be here for you
I will always love you in all shades of you

I still want you
I still love you even if you hurt me
I still want you even if you are mean to me
Nobody’s perfect and we aren’t perfect, love
If a woman sees you as a man who loves, cares, and strives to build a better life—whether rich or poor—your worth goes beyond words and wealth. True value isn’t measured by money but by the heart and effort you give.
Play your cards right and choose wisely what to discard.
Can I have your last name,
The same way I already have your heart?

You're already mine,
So why not make it official?

You’re so handsome,
Maybe you'd like to see a little version of yourself in me?

I am your wife,
But I can be anything you need—
Your partner, your peace, your greatest love.

You have a house,
But maybe you could build a home in me.

I’m not a pillow for you to hold dear,
But I’m warm and soft enough for you to stay close.

Most of all, I am your poetess;
And you, my love, are my greatest masterpiece.
Prison of Hell
Try to free from the chains,
Cuffed around my neck,
Bound are my feet and hands.
Trying to free myself,
How long will I last?
This indicipherable torture,
Imprisoned by my past.
How long will this pain last?
Burn my soul,
With this addicting ache I lust,
Shackled by the ticking sand–
But how long will I truly last?
Unless you wish me well,
Bound are my feet and hands,
Carpe Diem,
Save me lest I end, by my two hand.
That feeling of longing for something
Or for anything
In which you never know what it is
I hope to know what it is

That feeling of searching for something
That feeling I know that something is lacking
But never knew what it was
I hope I knew what it was
Take me to Wonderland
Leave me in Neverland
Hold my hand
And come with me where dreams are born
And time is never planned
So come with me where you and I are born
And our future is long planned.

We could be mad whenever we want,
Laughing together as we climb vines that seem to go on and on,
Tea parties popping up around every corner,
Where cups refill themselves, and teapots seem to burn with laughter.

We could dance with the Cheshire Cat,
Chasing the shadows and laughing until we’re breathless,
Where rules don’t matter, and everything feels a little off,
But it’s the kind of "off" that makes you feel truly alive.

We could sip tea anytime we please,
Pouring it from cups that never seem to empty,
Sipping away the hours with the White Rabbit, who’s always running late,
While the Mad Hatter’s mad plans unfold around us.

The flowers would talk, and the trees might sing,
The Queen could shout, “Off with their heads!” in her royal way,
But none of it would matter, because here in this world,
Every oddity and every strange moment just fit.

In Wonderland, we’d be free—no worries, no limits,
Living in the madness, where hearts are light and unburdened.
And even when we leave, we’ll remember,
That in Wonderland, joy is something that never stops flowing.

In Neverland, we’ll never grow old,
Where stories of Peter Pan are forever told.
We’ll fly through the skies, carefree and bright,
With Tinker Bell’s sparkles lighting up the night.

We’ll join Peter on adventures untamed,
Wendy’s courage, never to be shamed,
The Lost Boys will laugh and play all day,
As we chase the pirates, keeping fear at bay.

With the fairy dust swirling all around,
We’ll leap and soar without a sound.
No worries, no age, no reason to flee,
In Neverland, we’re wild and free.

We’ll meet Captain Hook, with his pirate crew,
And battle them all, with hearts so true.
We’ll swim in the lagoons, and sail the skies,
Where the stars never fade, and the moon never dies.

Tinker Bell’s wings will guide us through,
With her light, we’ll always know what to do.
And Wendy, with her gentle heart so kind,
Will remind us that adventure is always in our mind.

In Neverland, we’ll live without fear,
Where each moment’s magic is crystal clear.
Together, forever, we’ll laugh and play,
In Neverland, time slips away.

My Wonderland is your Neverland,
We will be forever together, hand in hand.
The same goes for you, and you are for me,
In this endless world, we’re meant to be.

Through the looking glass, we’ll chase our dreams,
In realms where nothing is quite as it seems.
Where time doesn’t pass, and love knows no end,
You are my forever, my love, my friend.

In your Neverland, we’ll never grow old,
Where every moment is a story untold.
I’ll be your Wendy, you’ll be my Peter Pan,
Together, we’ll conquer the skies and the land.

In my Wonderland, we’ll dance in the dark,
Laugh and twirl, leaving our mark.
With the Mad Hatter and Cheshire by our side,
Our hearts forever, nothing to hide.

We’ll explore the unknown, both near and far,
Our love will be our guiding star.
In Wonderland, in Neverland, we’ll be free,
For we are meant for each other, you and me.
Hindi ko mahanap  
ang tamang mga salita  
upang maipahayag sa iyo  
ang nais kong sabihin.  
Ngunit tila panahon na  
upang ilabas ko ang lahat ng hinanakit,  
ang mga pasakit na dinanas ko  
habang nasa piling mo.  
Noong mga panahong  
akin ka pa,  
noong mga araw na magkasama pa tayo,  
at noong mga sandaling  
may “tayo” pang umiiral.  

Hindi ko inasahang magbabago ka,  
na magsasawa ka,  
na iiwan mo ako,  
at ipagpapalit sa kanya.  
Pero ang hindi ko maunawaan,  
bakit mo nasabing ayaw mo na?  
Pagod ka lang ba talaga,  
o napagod ka na  
sa atin, sa sitwasyon,  
sa pagtatago,  
sa mga muntikan na tayong mabuking,  
o sa mga araw na may nakakita sa atin?  
Sino ba talaga ang nagbago—  
ako, ikaw,  
o baka tayo pareho?  

Bakit tila nawalan ka na ng gana?  
Ang mga salita mo’y naging malamig,  
ang mga yakap mo’y unti-unting naglaho,  
at ang dati **** liwanag  
sa mga mata’y nawala.  
Sa gitna ng lahat ng ito,  
ako’y patuloy na lumalaban,  
habang ikaw,  
unti-unting bumitaw.  

Paano mo nagawang balewalain  
ang lahat ng pinagsamahan natin?  
Paano mo natapos  
ang ugnayang binuo natin nang magkasama?  
Ngayon, nauunawaan ko na  
kung bakit mo ako iniwan:  
nakuha mo na ang gusto mo—  
sirain ako,  
iwan ako,  
pagkatapos mo akong pakinabangan.  

Noong araw na hinatid mo ako  
hanggang sa dulo ng kalsada,  
lumingon ako,  
nagbabakasakaling lilingon ka rin,  
tatakbo papunta sa akin,  
yayakapin ako,  
susuyuin ako  
na huwag kang iwan.  
Pero hindi na pala.  
Pinili **** lumayo,  
at sa wakas,  
pinili ko ring  
huwag nang bumalik pa.  

Nararamdaman ko na lang  
ang mga hawak mo—  
tila paalam na,  
ang mga yakap **** nanlalamig,  
ang mga titig **** umiiwas,  
hanggang sa tuluyan kang nawala.  
Ang mga pangako ****  
“mahal kita,”  
“ikaw lang,”  
at “hindi kita iiwan”—  
lahat pala’y kasinungalingan.  

Noong akin ka pa,  
pinanghawakan ko ang mga salitang iyon,  
pero ngayon,  
ang “ikaw at ako”  
ay naging bulong na lamang sa hangin,  
tinatangay ng nakaraan.  

Kung iisa tayo,  
bakit mo nagawang pagkaisahan  
ang damdamin ko?  
Saan ako nagkulang?  
Saan ako nagkamali?  
At bakit mo ako iniwang ganito?  

Oo, bigla kang nawala,  
at nagmukha akong tanga  
kakahanap sa iyo.  
Hanggang sa makita kita,  
nasa piling na pala ng iba.  
Sobrang saya mo sa kanya,  
ibang-iba sa tuwing ikaw ay kasama ko noon.  

Pinilit kong lumayo,  
kahit alam kong mahirap.  
Pinalaya kita,  
kahit hindi ko kaya.  
Ginawa ko ito para  
sa kapayapaan nating dalawa.  

Hindi na kita hahabulin.  
Tanggap ko na—  
matagal na tayong wala.  
Ibabaon ko sa limot  
ang lahat ng sakit,  
ang lahat ng alaala,  
at ang lahat ng naging tayo.  

Paalam,  
nagmamahal pa rin,  
Mahal.
Did you receive a death threat?
Or did you simply wish me misery?
But why do you react like a rabid dog,
Like an uneducated, ill-mannered woman?

Cerberus was kind enough to let you in,
Yet even Hades refuses to accept you.
A pretty face hides impure intentions—
Neither Persephone nor Aphrodite would ever welcome you.

But I do not need an invitation, to see you suffer
I do not even need a chauffer, I just needed a drachma for the ferryman
To send you to River Styx myself
Or to the pit of Tartarus instead
So shall we? Cerberus, Scorpioks, Manticore, Kraken, or Hydra, choose your battles wisely, my friend
Since all of them is waiting for a feast—to eat you up alive

Just like a rainbow, you revealed your true colors.
I get it, I swear.
You don’t have to prove to everyone how kind you are,
When deep inside, you let your intrusive thoughts take control.

If a fish rots, so do your dark pasts.
Even if you drink perfume like a potion,
Or rinse your mouth to make your words seem flowery,
You remain a foul person with a rotten personality,
Behaving like a rabid dog.

You forgot where you came from,
Tarnished your family's name,
Abandoned your identity and heritage,
Just to chase someone of a different race.

Like a snake, you shed your skin,
But time has stayed on our side.
In the end, you revealed yourself—
A gambler with nothing left to hide.
I got no courage to tell you
But this feeling amazes me
All the road I travelled on
Leads me all the way to you

This life is not easy
I hope let us hold on

You have been bullying me
Since the beginning
I hated you so much too
But now, I loved you

My classmates thought we were lovers
Since we look like one
Since we look good for each other
But it's all done
Yet suddenly, unexpectedly

I fell for you
Without giving hints
Oh, since the beginning
This is too tough for me

This feeling is just sleeping
For over a thousand times now
This feeling is not fleeting
This feeling is legit now

No matter how desperate I am to avoid it
Yet all the roads I have travelled on
Leads me back to you
For no reasons at all

Baby, you’re worth it
I hope you should hold on
Hold on to me, I’ll hold on to you
You are my only reason at all

It was iconic and ironic, yes
That a second child fell for you, yes
Your absence left a hole in my heart
I hate the feeling that my heart was tearing apart
How I miss your presence being next to me
But why, I don't understand you, leaving me

Why didn't you wait for me
Now you're there lying cold six feet below the ground
I know your presence is still around
But now I'm drowning in my own misery

I miss the way you call my name
How you laugh and you smile
It made me happy too even just for a while
How I fix you in my gaze
I miss your pretty, angelic face
But when you left, I'm no longer the same

I still feel you here, here with me
Although I already felt lost
Dancing on my own with your ghost
I still need you here with me

Where were you when I need you most
I still can't believe it
I can't seem to get over it
Now that you're gone
I'm left here all alone
Wish you were here with me, I need you most

The sky is gloomy, I am moody
The weather is so cold
Yes I've been told

The wind flies away south
Gotta forget what this is all about

Now that you're gone
You're no longer here
When everything is said and done
I still want you here
The greatest prison people live in is not made of stone or iron. It is invisible. Silent. Cold. It is the fear of what other people will think. A cage built from whispers, glances, rumors, assumptions. It surrounds you even when no one is near. You carry it in your chest, in your shoulders, in the hollow of your spine.

They do not know you. They do not see you. They cannot measure your pain, your triumphs, your thoughts, your soul. And yet, their opinions loom larger than the world you live in. They hover, persistent as shadows, murmuring their verdicts in the dark.

So you hide. You bend. You shrink. You drape yourself in masks and polite nods and quiet smiles. You perform for a crowd that does not exist in full, a crowd of phantoms that has no right to dictate the shape of your life.

The world teaches you that approval is safety, that acceptance is survival. And you believe it. You trade your freedom for the illusion of peace. You silence your thoughts. You abandon your voice. You whisper when you could roar.

But pause, and ask yourself—why do you care what they think? Do you feel pleased with yourself? Are your actions aligned with your heart, your values, your soul? Are you pleasing God with your endeavors, your choices, your efforts? If not, then all the concern, all the fear, is misplaced. It is not their opinion that matters—it is yours, and the One who sees beyond the eyes of men.

The ghost of judgment thrives in silence. It creeps through your nights, coils around your chest, hisses in the corners of your mind. It is relentless, venomous, waiting for a crack, a falter, a moment of doubt. But when God is present, when your faith anchors your soul, the ghost is nothing. Its fangs fall, its claws rust, its shadows shriek and dissolve in the light that cannot be dimmed.

You are free. Free from whispers, free from stares, free from the phantom jury that once ruled your nights. You are free because the prison was never theirs—it was yours, built by your own fear. And now, the walls shatter. The chains fall. The shadows burn.

The fear still lingers, yes. Sometimes it claws at your throat, sometimes it creeps beneath your ribs. But you do not bow to it. You do not cower. You meet it, you face it, and you stand. You speak. You live. You rise.

No longer do you need to explain, to justify, to shrink yourself to fit the comfort of others. No longer do you seek their applause, their nods, their hollow praise. Your life is yours. Your voice is yours. Your soul is yours.

And even when the world screams, even when whispers become shouts, even when they judge without understanding, you remain untouched. You remain unbroken. Their thoughts are shadows on walls—they cannot reach you.

Faith does not make you invisible. It does not erase the noise. But it gives you armor, forged not of steel, but of conviction, of love, of truth. You walk through fire and remain whole. You tread through storms and remain steady.

The prison was never the world. The prison was never the people. The prison was the fear you held inside, the chains you allowed them to forge in your mind. And now, the chains are gone. The walls are gone. The shadows retreat.

You move through life with eyes open, heart steady, soul anchored. You speak when it is right, act when it is right, love when it is right. And never again do you bend for approval that was never deserved.

Even in solitude, even in silence, even when the world misunderstands, you are complete. You are enough. You are whole. You are free.

Sometimes, when the night is still and the wind whispers through empty streets, you hear the echo of judgment. And you smile, because you know it touches nothing, reaches nothing, binds nothing.

You are no longer the prisoner. You are the witness. You are the survivor. You are the voice that cannot be silenced, the light that cannot be dimmed, the soul that cannot be judged.

Even when fear returns in shadows, it finds no purchase. Even when whispers rise like storms, they crash against walls you have built with faith. Even when doubt coils around your mind, it meets the unwavering certainty that God’s gaze is the only judgment that matters.

The ghost may linger a moment, but it will never stay. You have seen its face. You have named it. You have burned it. And you walk forward, free, fierce, unbroken, and untamed.

The greatest prison was never theirs. It was yours. And you broke it.

Because when you have God, what other people think no longer matters. You do not live for them. You live for yourself. You live for truth. You live for the One who sees the heart.
I never knew when my pounding heart started racing
Every time I see you walk around the place,
I never knew when I first fell for you
But it was when, I first laid eyes on you;

It was as if I can hear angels singing
Every time I see your face.
Every time you walk in the room
My mind was imagining that someday you’re going to be my groom

I never knew when my mind started thinking of you
Or when did your name started to resound on my mind,
You were too hard to find
But now that I have you,

I wish you would look my way
And let me hear you say;
Don’t run away, don’t walk away
I hope you would want to stay,

Dear love, I don’t even know your name
But you’re still the one I want to aim,
Only your eyes and mouth, they smile
Oh, I love to see them just for a while;

My feelings were like lightning
It came too fast but we’re not rushing.
This feeling is not fleeting
I never feel like reeling,

Hit the vibe and come with me
I was too scared to talk to you,
But come here and sit beside me
I just want to let you know;

That I never want to let go
I just want to stay here with you.
I never want to see you go
I just had to let you know,

The way you move makes me fall
Fall harder and deeper into you,
The way I tried to never fall
But I caught myself falling for you.

But you weren’t even there to catch me
I was kept on falling,
And one day I’ll be crawling
Next time, I’ll be walking;

Another day passes by
Didn’t know what time is it,
Feels like time flies
Every time you look into my eyes;

I hope you feel it
Cause I don’t want to say goodbye.
Say your sweet goodbye
I hope it’s worth it.
I was never a type of person...
to share thoughts and open my mind,
my wounds for everyone to see or feel
but I was a type of person to hold a pen,
write my emotions, describe thoughts I could not draw

I was never an achiever at drawing
but I was an awardee at writing, speaking...

I was a type of person
who hid behind her notebook,
flips through empty, unwritten new pages
of a newly bought notebook

I was never the type of person
to start a conversation,
I was not much of a smooth talker
only a few knew me,
beyond what they see in the mask I hide
beyond the lies I tell
the stories I unravel

I was always the type of person being bullied,
abused, naive for a fact that everyone understands me
or that everyone is my friend
or that everyone will not spill my secret
As Ginny says, secrets hold power
I want that power gone, so is the secret I tell

I was the type of person,
sensitive and loving
clingy to my friends, supportive to my siblings
I was always the advice seeker
but where were you when I needed you most?
I thought we had each other's backs
but I guess, when I was the talk of the town, you joined the fun.

maybe, because gossiping sure was fun.
I was once the life of the party
but now it feels like my life is a party
a funeral for everyone to see,
hypocrites lined up waiting to see me

I think I like my new name, new form better
Everyone calls me a liar, a thief, a what now?
A devil.
I look, talk and walk like an angel, just like in a song
that I got wise, now I am the devil.
but he never grins or smirks,
I will never forget what you all called me
But I like my name, I think it suits me
How will I ever let you go
If I still remember the things we did
How will I ever forget you
If I still remember the words you said

All the things you said are running through my head
Please leave me alone, get out of my head
All the memories we did, are all in my head
Please leave me alone, stop messing inside my head
Don't smile or laugh in front of me pretending you're happy or enjoying talking to me.

Don't be fake, plastic friend.

Don't think your anger towards me can cover it up. Tsk, I wasn't born yesterday.

I love that stupidity of yours, by the way. Your mindset seems to be regressing.
[reposted since it is under review]
An unheard explanation waiting to be heard is enough for an amount of silence traded for peace of mind.
Do we really need to know everything at all costs?
What costs us when we heard unspoken truth unfolding right before our very eyes,
heard by what our ears supposedly should not hear,
gives us pain and suffering in return.

maybe it is better to let it be.
known or unknown.
heard or not
seen or not
tangible or intangible.
does it matter? or does it not?

questions are quite tricky that was stuck in the corner of my mind
is it worth it or is it not?
to be or not to be? that is the question.
maybe Shakespeare seems to be offended of me for stealing Hamlet's dialogue
just like this poem, I intended to write it
to let my mind wander free here on Hello Poetry

sometimes, I consider myself as a cloud.
I am quite emotional. I cry a lot.
I am softhearted and sensitive.
I hate it. I go soft for things that are sincere.
I hate petty things to be fought over.
I love music, I love poems and songs
in short, I love literature.

it feels like I am stuck in a wrong era, in a wrong world
in a wrong generation, in a wrong century
everything in my life feels so wrong.
No one has to know. No matter what other people have to say against you, their opinions never matter. At the end of the day, no matter what you do in life, you always have a home in me, my arms will welcome and embrace you. Keep moving forward my love, mistakes happen. We are all imperfect, still, what was important was you were never invisible in my eyes.

We survive not to please other, but to prove to ourselves that we can do it. That we deserve to live a life independently. We survived long enough to satisfy ourselves. Opinions of others are not required to be heard, God's voice does.
I have crossed the ocean of time just tryna find you
Yet, here you are, unbothered and unaffected by the things you always hear
“Still single?” “When will you be getting married?”
My apologies for not arriving in your life sooner than you expected
Since I travelled for miles, swam in the vast oceans of experiences before I got here
Not knowing you’d be my destiny
Since now, I already met you, I wish you would not leave me
Please stay, if you wish to leave
Then leave, if you wish to stay
Hence, if your will is never to leave me, I expect you to be together.
To my little panda,
healing his inner child.

Look how far you've come
Look how big you've grown now
Immaturity was still there
In a mature tall man, you are

When I look into your eyes,
I once saw fear.
The fear of being unloved.
of being judged.
of being unaccepted.

But when you knew my story,
You saw gladness in my eyes
looking back at you.

I stood beside you for many years,
witnessed every tantrum,
every episode,
every anxiety you may feel,
I held your hand out from the crowd
snatched you away, hugged you
and kept you safe.

I never went with you
in these bodies of water
where we might drown

but sometimes,
I want you to experience
the things you never experienced before
I want you to be loved and feel loved
without pain,

where is the fun in that?
when I maybe chose to take away the happiness in your life
but rather, we bargain, leave the happiness behind as is
and remove the negativities in your life

Little panda, you are an old fragile man with a broken inner child.
You were once a child too, but they took it away from you.
Only dead fish go with the flow. Only the lifeless drift, pale and hollow, carried by currents they do not question. Only those who have surrendered their fire, their will, their soul, float like shadows, invisible to themselves and the world alike.

Look around you. Everywhere you turn, you see them—smiling, nodding, echoing, pretending. People who never think. People who never feel. People who bend to the whim of others, who trade their convictions for comfort, their voice for approval. They call it normal. I call it death disguised as life.

The current is seductive. It whispers safety, peace, acceptance. It lulls the weak and tempts the timid. But its embrace is ice, its cradle is a coffin. It will carry you far from yourself, far from fire, far from truth. It will consume you, quietly, until you are nothing but driftwood.

To go with the flow is to abandon your heart, your mind, your essence. It is to become a ghost in your own life. It is to die slowly, day by day, in plain sight, while praising the illusion of survival.

And yet, they call resistance foolish. They call defiance reckless. They call courage arrogance. They whisper behind your back, clutch their pearls, smear your name. Let them. Their judgment is the noise of the dead. It cannot touch you.

To swim upstream is to feel life in every cell, every heartbeat, every struggling breath. It is to bleed and ache and tremble—but it is to be awake. To fight the current is to insist on your right to exist, fully, fiercely, entirely.

You will be alone. You will be misunderstood. You will be ridiculed. They will whisper about your stubbornness, your temper, your audacity. Let them. They are shadows chasing shadows. Their fear is your confirmation.

The current will claw at you, trying to drag you back into placid waters, trying to drown your fire in mediocrity. Fight anyway. Every stroke against the tide is a declaration of life. Every heartbeat against the rhythm of the dead is a rebellion.

Look at the world of dead fish around you. They float comfortably, unquestioning, complacent. They worship conformity. They bow to appearances. They trade morality for mimicry. And they call it survival.

But you—alive, burning, defiant—you are the storm in their shallow pond. You are the jagged edge that refuses to be dulled. You are the voice that will not echo, the flame that will not bow, the river that will not stagnate.

Do not fear isolation. It is the company of life, not the chorus of the dead. Solitude is the armor of the brave. Alone, you are stronger than any swarm of placid, drifting bodies. Alone, you are pure. Alone, you are free.

They will offer advice coated in venom. They will try to shame your struggle. They will claim their flow is righteous, their path safe, their obedience noble. But it is death masquerading as comfort.

The dead fish do not see the deep. They do not feel the current’s bite. They do not know the thrill of swimming against tides, of striking against impossible odds, of roaring when the world whispers that silence is better.

You will fall. You will struggle. You will taste defeat. But even in the shallowest pools, even when the current drags you backward, even when your strength wavers, your soul remembers: only the dead float.

Do not let their complacency chain you. Do not let their fear drown you. Do not let their murmurs persuade you to drift. The river of your life belongs to you, and you alone.

Every choice, every stroke, every defiance is proof of life. Every time you resist the tide, every time you refuse the mimicry, every time you speak when others whisper—you are alive. You are fire. You are voice. You are presence.

The dead fish around you will never understand. They will never see your struggle. They will never comprehend the taste of blood and salt and truth on your lips. And that is their failure, not yours.

The flow is easy. The current is comfortable. The whispers of the dead are persuasive. But their ease is an illusion, a coffin lined with their own cowardice, their own surrender.

Only dead fish go with the flow. Only the lifeless obey. Only the silenced drift. But you are not one of them. You are awake. You are dangerous. You are fire in the water, resistance incarnate, a storm that refuses to be tamed.

So swim. Struggle. Fight. Resist. Speak. Roar. Burn. And let the dead float. Let the world drift. You, alive, remain unstoppable.
How come— he who bends me never broke me But rather, his pleasure is what I desire
I thought it was pain, but when it lasted, I long for the feeling.

I thought it would hurt. I thought the ache would make me turn away. But when it lasts, when it lingers, I find I crave it. I long for it. I feel feverish every time it’s in—every inch, every movement igniting me, setting my blood alight. My body remembers before my mind does, and I am lost in the rhythm, in the weight of him against me.

I cry. I moan softly—barely a whisper—but amidst the push and the pull, the give and take, I laugh. Playfully. Recklessly. As if the world outside no longer exists, as if only this closeness, this surrender, matters.

He bends me, yes—but he never breaks me. In that intimacy, raw and unguarded, I am laid bare, yet whole. Vulnerable, yet unafraid. Desire and trust coil together until I am fully his, and yet, wholly myself.

I am mine. And in his presence, feverish, moaning, laughing, I am unmade, remade, and understood in ways no one else could ever reach.
My poems are the true witnesses of my experience,
Instead of shedding a tear, I turn to my keyboard—
typing what I felt,
turning my pain into words.

Instead of being vulnerable in front of the world,
I choose to be vulnerable in verses,
letting the ink spill where silence once held me captive.

I don’t shout what I feel deep within;
I hold my thoughts and carve them into lines—
no longer acting out the chaos,
but releasing it with the stroke of each key.

Gone are the days of outbursts,
of unspoken words and buried emotions.
Now, with every line, I blow out what I once held in,
transforming what hurt into something that speaks.

Stop me, I don't even recognize myself when I'm full of anger, hatred, and sorrow, overflowing with emotion.
Hindi ako ang taong hinahanap mo, at siguro, hindi rin ikaw ang taong akala ko noon na kailangan ko.

Oo, nagbago ako— at alam kong iyon ang hindi mo matanggap. Pero kailan ba naging kasalanan ang pagbabago? Bakit kailangang may masisi? Bakit kailangang isa sa atin ang may sala?

Ang "tayo" noon ay tila isang kwento na sinimulan natin nang may galak, ngunit natapos nang walang malinaw na wakas. At kahit gusto **** isipin na isa lamang itong kwento ng paglimot, alam **** hindi lang iyon ang nangyari.

Alam **** may mga sandali na kahit magkasama tayo, ang isip ko ay lumulutang, naghahanap ng ibang daan, ibang kapiling. At alam **** kahit anong sakit ang maramdaman mo ngayon, walang balikan, walang paliwanag na sapat para burahin ang katotohanang iyon.

Kung ang paglayo ko ang naging dahilan ng pagguho mo, hindi ko na iyon mababawi. Pero huwag **** isipin na ginawa ko ito upang sirain ka. Dahil hindi ko kailanman hinangad ang bumitaw sa bagay na minsan kong pinahalagahan.

Pero minsan, ang isang tao ay hindi talaga itinadhana upang manatili. At minsan, ang pagmamahal ay hindi sapat upang hindi hanapin ang iba.

Hindi kita pinagkaisahan, hindi kita ginamit, hindi kita iniwan nang walang dahilan. Nagbago ako, nagbago rin ang nararamdaman ko. At hindi kita ginawang laruan— pero hindi ko rin kayang ipilit ang isang bagay na nawala na.

Ikaw ang naglingon pabalik, habang ako naman, tuluyan nang lumakad palayo. Hindi dahil gusto kong makalimutan, kundi dahil alam kong wala nang dapat pang balikan.

Hindi ko na hihilingin na intindihin mo ako. Hindi ko na pipilitin ang sarili kong magpaliwanag pa sa iyo, dahil sa dulo, hindi naman kailangang lahat ng bagay ay may paliwanag.

Matagal ko nang alam ang nararamdaman mo, matagal ko nang alam ang hinanakit na hindi mo kayang bitawan. Pero kung ako ang nagpasyang lumayo, ikaw rin naman ang matagal nang hindi nagawang manatili.

Kung ang huli nating usapan ay isang paghuhusga, isang pagsisi, isang hanapan ng dahilan— siguro, ito na ang huling sagot ko sa iyo.

Hindi ko na kailangang lumingon pa. Hindi ko na kailangang ipaliwanag pa kung paano ako nakahanap ng iba, kung paano ako tuluyang nawala kahit sa harapan mo pa lang.

Wala na rin naman kahit na balikan, wala na ang tamis nung ika’y nahagkan, at sa huling paalam, naintindihan na sa ating dalawa, may ibang nakalaan.

Wala na tayong “tayo.” At kung iyon ang katotohanan, matagal ko nang natanggap iyon.

Sa pagkakataong ito, hindi ko na kailangang lumingon pa. Paalam.
Isang bukas na sulat para sa aking minamahal:

Hindi ka niya kayang palitan
Pero kaya niyang higitan ang pagmamahal mo
Pero kaya niyang punan ang mga pagkukulang mo
Binibigay at pinaparamdam niya sa akin ang mga bagay na gusto kong sa'yo galing
Ang ngiti mo, ang pangalan mo, ang tawa mo, ang hugis ng mukha mo di ko malimutan kailanman
Ngunit siya na ang nandiyan para sa akin
Na kailanman ay hindi na ako sa iyo ay babalik pa
Isang salita, pitong letra
PAG-IBIG na mas mahirap pa sa Math Equation
PAG-IBIG na mas kumplikado pa sa Logical Reasoning
PAG-IBIG na mas mahirap sagutin kahit OO o HINDI lang ang isasagot
Ang utak kong ito na kahit ilang beses kong pigain ay hindi kayang sumagot

Na  kahit naipapakita ko na sa'yo na ikaw ay deserving
Ngunit di mo pansin ang aking naibibigay na effort and attention

Oh well, singtamis ng kendi ang salitang I LOVE YOU
Ngunit di mo feel ang aking love towards you
I have been praying that I hope you feel the same way too
Pero di ko pa alam kung kailan ito magkakatotoo
You don't have to rub salt in my wounds
Say it to my face
Stand my feet on the ground
Leave my place without a trace

Move on, forget them
Condemn them, or be solemn
For they only gave me misery
Instead of love and mercy

I came back but ran away afterwards
Feeling scared, like the deer in the headlights
I see flashing signs, but it was what I thought it was
But isn't she lovely
Isn't she pretty

What does a pretty girl like you feel
Oh behind that pretty smile, hides the darkest secrets I was afraid to tell
Oh no one wants to know
But I'm too intrigued to show
Hey, I know, I thought it will only take me a while
I felt like I'm dying inside

Mask my pain, only anger remains
Leave thy past behind, they've been blind
But too foolish to mind
Mind games play thy minds
One wants to turn a blind eye, and a numb death
Makes me bleed, make them repent
Hollows are deadly, poison ivy
Look at me, stare into my eyes and never look away
Hold my hand and hug me close
Then hear what I have to say
Love, it’s you I couldn’t bear to lose

I've been waiting for a long time
To be somebody's prayer
I have looked everywhere for a long time
But here you are now and you have answered my prayer

I can't find the right words to say:
How grateful I am of having you
You are God’s blessing and a living gift to me
To have someone like you

Through our ups and downs, you have loved me
And I am glad that you chose to stay

Some people search their whole lives to find what I found in you
And nothing's ever going to change the way I feel for you
Cause you gave me feelings I cannot put into words
But as they say action speaks louder than words

Cause a glimpse of you is all I ever yearned
I know your love is earned
But thank you, for making me feel loved
Because for me, you are enough to be loved

I still love you
I still miss you
I still want you
I still need you

Love me and look into my eyes
Cause love, you made me crazier all the time
Touch me now as I close my eyes
Cause I miss you all the time

You made me choose
Don't worry, cause you're the one I'd always choose

You’re the missing piece who'll complete me
And I have already found a love for me
Look at me and stare into my eyes and never look away
Hold my hand and hug me close then hear what I have to say
Be by my side, hold my hand and hug me close then stay with me
What I see is my lifetime paradise
That's what I'm sure of
What I have now is my blessing in disguise
And he's one thing I'm sure of

What we had was a rollercoaster ride
You and I collide through the good times and the bad
I just could not take for granted what we had
You're my groom and I'll be your bride

Baby, you're the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with
You're the one I want to be with
I might not give what you wanted
But I got what you needed

Baby, hold my hand and we'll make it through
Cause I still love to love you

I know what we had was meant to be
And our relationship was tested through time
But the moment I saw you, I knew that you're the one for me
I hope it's your hand I'd end up holding till the end of time

I may not be a perfect lover for you
Although I make mistakes, I promise to never break your heart
With or without my presence, I will always be here for you
But I hope we never part

Your voice calms me like the sea
After a long and tiring day
Your angelic face is all I needed to see
And I can rest my worries with you

In your arms is where I wanted to stay
Cause I never want to let you go
You're that guy I never expected to have now
Now, who is willing to have me now.

Baby, you are my best view
I cannot take my eyes off of you
Ooh, you know how I loved you so
Hey, I got my focus on you
A soft woman is simply a wolf in meditation. She moves quietly through the world, observing, listening, cataloging every detail, every slight, every whisper that crosses her path.

Her calm is not submission. Her silence is not ignorance. It is a strategy, a shield, a way to gather strength when the world expects her to bend.

The most dangerous woman is not the one who screams, who lashes out, who exposes herself in anger. She is the one who sits in silence, unbothered, holding receipts in one hand and a whiskey in the other, pairing reflection with quiet celebration.

She does not need to justify herself. She does not need to explain her choices. She does not need to argue. Her life is her evidence, her actions her proof.

I do not hold grudges. I hold accountability. I remember every misstep, every betrayal, every careless word, not to hurt others, but to learn how I will respond next time.

I am a masterpiece, still in progress. I am learning the art of peace, the discipline of patience, the power of silence, and the way to sharpen my edges without losing my softness.

Softness does not equal weakness. Calm does not equal cowardice. Reflection does not equal inaction. I am learning to balance all of these, to wield them like instruments of precision.

Every slight, every manipulation, every attempt to undermine me becomes a lesson. It becomes a map of what I will never allow to take root in my life again.

I am aware of my power, my worth, my intuition. I trust my judgment. I trust my timing. I trust the quiet strength that builds within me each day.

I do not need approval. I do not need admiration. I do not need applause. My validation comes from my awareness, my growth, my ability to remain unshaken while others falter.

I measure my responses with care. I choose when to speak, when to act, and when to remain silent. I understand that timing is everything, and silence often carries more weight than words.

I am the calm before the storm. I am the shadow that goes unnoticed until it is too late. I am the quiet force that can dismantle arrogance without lifting a hand.

I observe. I analyze. I move deliberately. I understand human nature and the ways people reveal themselves when they think no one is watching.

I celebrate myself. I do not need others to recognize my victories. I acknowledge them. I honor them. I let them strengthen me for the battles yet to come.

I forgive, yes. But I do not forget. I forgive to free myself, to release the weight that would otherwise hold me down. I remember to protect, to navigate, to survive.

I create boundaries. I enforce them gently but firmly. I do not allow chaos, manipulation, or cruelty to dictate my life. I do not yield to those who thrive on tearing others down.

I am precise. I am deliberate. I am aware. My actions are calculated, not careless. My silence is intentional, not empty.

I am resilient. I rise. I endure. I thrive in ways that cannot be measured by the judgments of others, by the opinions of those who fail to understand the depth of my mind.

And above all, I am free. Free to learn, to love, to celebrate, to be quiet, to be dangerous, to be soft, to be unshakable. I am free to master peace in a world that confuses noise for power.

I am a soft woman, a wolf in meditation, a quiet storm. I am deliberate, dangerous, aware, and alive. And no one—not even the chaos of the world—can touch the power that grows within me in silence.
every pathway I walked on feels like trouble
scents I smell stinks like rumble
I hurrah in chaos and mess
I stand up, wear my crown and never be unbowed

penny for your thoughts?
Maybe I need a drachma for the ferryman to take me there
show me what lies behind or beyond your deception and betrayal
I adore my eyes. They are obsidian mirrors, reflecting not just light but the shadows of those who dare cross me.

They can glow with warmth, like lanterns in a haunted hall, soft beacons for those who walk honestly beside me.

But they twist. Slowly, like smoke curling from a dying flame. And then, suddenly, they harden, sharp as a raven’s talon, edged with contempt.

When anger rises, my eyes do not scream. They pierce. They roll, a dark warning, as if the void itself has taken residence within them.

I savor this duality. My gaze is both sanctuary and abyss, gentle as dusk, lethal as a midnight storm.

And there is my smirk. Not of delight, not of play, but of inevitable reckoning. Karma drips like candle wax, slow, precise, unavoidable.

The smirk is a shadow dancing across my lips, the quiet promise that all sins will return to those who commit them.

Silence is my armor. My stillness is a fortress. And the world misreads it as submission, when it is mastery of all they cannot comprehend.

I stare. I measure. I let the scene imprint itself on my mind. And then, just as quietly, I look away. I turn. I walk. Leaving them to wonder if I ever noticed at all.

My eyes reveal nothing. And yet they betray everything. A cathedral of judgment and reflection, untouched by their shallow games.

When the smirk appears, it is the herald of storms. It unnerves the unsuspecting, whispers of shadows that slither just beyond their sight.

I can be tender, yet monstrous. Soft, yet lethal. A delicate rose entwined with black thorns that pierce the careless.

The smirk is not vanity. It is forewarning. It is the knowledge that the wicked will meet the mirror of their own making.

My eyes are sharpened instruments, tuned to detect deceit, to perceive hidden malice, to anticipate treachery before it lands.

I love how the smirk grows with arrogance, thickens with audacity, like fog settling over a forgotten grave.

I do not strike in haste. I do not rage. I wait. I watch. And the darkness gathers around me, patient, precise, inevitable.

My gaze is fierce. My smirk is doom cloaked in elegance. Together, they are a cathedral of judgment no lie can withstand.

Softness and ferocity coexist, like moonlight and shadow, dusk and grave, kindness and the guillotine waiting silently.

People see calm, composure, serenity. But inside, my smirk and my eyes are a midnight symphony, conducting the reckoning yet to come.

Above all, I love that my gaze, paired with that smirk, speaks louder than any sword or scream could. They are history, justice, inevitability—poised, patient, gothic, eternal.
Did I develop these pictures just to burn it
Write these letters just to shred it
Sang songs during sobriety
Danced on the dancefloor, feeling high
"It was us against the world," what a pretty little liar you are
You left me all alone. In the streets sleeping.

That night, when you drove me home, was it out of gesture?
Or was it the last time you went and wanted to see me?

Because when I wore that red satin dress, you dumped me.
But I strived harder, moved to Harvard to study Law but not to follow you
No wonder a girl like me from sorority
Would become a lawyer someday.
I go bullet for bullet, blow by blow
But it doesn't have to end that way—
I want katana to katana, arrow to arrow
But never mind.

Let's be civil about it.
I intend to be more composed than react about it.
Waste my strength for a nonsense person over a nonsense, petty matter.
I never know. We never did.

Did you see me ******* stutter? or joke around?
Nah, I don't think so.
Strolling all alone in the sidewalks
Been too busy and too tired to talk
Oh, I am taking all the time
All alone but ain’t lonely

Oh, I am alone all the time
But I ain’t lonely
Hey, I was doing really just fine
Yes, I will be fine

I am taking all the self-worth I deserve
Feed me the love I deserve
I am satisfying myself with the self-love I deserve
Yeah, I deserve so much more than what I truly deserve

Been alone in the seaside now
Too many things going around my mind
I have been so busy now
I got to let myself find me

Know what else will be behind me
Know what I got to find
And oh, I have been managing my own time
The way you never reciprocate the time

I want to have
I got to have
I deserve to have
Oh, I am all that I have

Walking by the seaside aisle
Seeing the beach in a different perspective
Let us be lost in our way
And discover the world we live in

You got to give in
Walking that extra mile
Reaching the borderline
Life seems too obstructive

I got to say
I was alone but ain’t lonely
Say that I was lonely before but I was with you
What would be the difference?

I just want to be alone
At least I feel less lonely
There seems to be an occurrence
It was different when I was with you
you want game? I will place you in one.
beware. no one makes it out alive.
how does it feel?
to be played in your own game?
be tricked in your own set of rules
Is it fun to be played? No right?
so why play when you do not wanna play fair?
you do not know the mechanics of this game.
but you seem to act as if knowing the rules by rote memorization makes you win
know the rules by heart and you win.
honey, you are not suitable for my liking.
and so is the game you play.
Player just got played. The fire he kindled, he thought he controlled, now devours him. Every spark, every flame he nurtured with selfish hands, now bites back, relentless and merciless.

He fell into the rabbit hole he dug himself, a pit carved from deceit, from manipulation, from illusions. And how ironic, that he thought the trap was for someone else.

The world is patient. Karma is patient. Fire is patient. And he, blinded by arrogance, never learned patience. He only learned greed. He only learned cunning. He only learned the shallow satisfaction of illusion.

And now, he flails. The smoke clouds his vision. The flames lick at his confidence. The walls of his rabbit hole close in, and for the first time, he feels the weight of consequences.

Do you hear it? The crackle of embers, the whisper of judgment. He thought he was untouchable. He thought he was clever. He thought the world was merely a stage for his games.

But games have rules. And rules have enforcers. The fire he lit for others has now consumed him. The lies he planted as seeds have grown into thorns that pierce his own hands.

Every manipulation, every deceit, every whispered lie—the tally has come due. And he cannot bargain, cannot beg, cannot charm the reckoning away.

He who seeks to burn others finds himself scorched. He who digs rabbit holes for shadows discovers that shadows are patient hunters. And the deeper he dug, the harder the fall.

Did he ever consider that the world does not bend to the will of arrogance? That truth, unyielding and relentless, has a way of turning tables? That fire, once kindled, has its own mind?

And now, here he is—ash in his hair, smoke in his lungs, the taste of his own deceit bitter upon his tongue. He wanted chaos; he got it, but as the main course, not the amuse-bouche.

He thought manipulation was power. He thought cruelty was control. He thought others were pawns in his little game. But the game was never his alone.

Every shadow he cast, every trap he laid, every false smile he offered—they were all part of a ledger. And the ledger does not lie. It waits. Patiently. Ruthlessly.

He fell into the rabbit hole. The fire consumes him. And yet, he screams as if anyone could hear, as if anyone could care. But the world merely watches, and the flames answer only to the truth.

The fire he created was his own. The pit he dug was his own. The collapse of his empire of illusions, inevitable and exquisite, is entirely, undeniably, his own doing.

Do you feel it? The irony, thick and sweet? The justice, unerring and absolute? The pleasure of watching a player swallowed by his own game, burned in the blaze he thought he commanded?

He is learning, though slowly, the one lesson arrogance refuses to teach quickly: nothing crafted from deceit can endure, nothing built on shadows can remain standing.

And while he sputters and flails, I sip my piña colada, collect my evidence, and let the silence of my patience speak louder than his screams ever could.

For every player who thinks they are untouchable, there is a world quietly taking notes. Every rabbit hole has a trap door. Every fire eventually consumes its architect.

And he, poor fool, has only himself to blame. He played the game, he cheated, he schemed—and now, he is just another cautionary tale in the ashes.

Player just got played. And the fire he created? It is beautiful, terrifying, and entirely his own.
I am a poetess.
Soft-spoken, quiet, almost invisible in your noise.
I write in free verse, in monologues, in pages you’ll never touch.
I craft my words like delicate knives—silent, sharp, precise.
I never talk back, never argue, never explain.

I am tired.
Tired of proving myself.
Tired of showing why my point of view matters.
Tired of bending over backwards for people who only want to see me small.
If they think what they think about me makes them happy… let them.

Let them brag. Let them talk.
When they brag about themselves, no one listens.
But when they talk **** behind my back,
Oh… have you seen my back?

You dissing me from behind?
Oops. That back of mine—toned, strong, unyielding.
Sculpted with effort you can’t begin to imagine.
Sides defined where yours have none.
Strength you try to belittle, yet cannot replicate.

I do not engage.
I do not lower myself to your level.
I let the ink of my pen do what my voice will not.
I let silence speak louder than your chaos.
I let words linger in the corners where you cannot reach them.

You imagine me frail.
You imagine me weak.
You imagine that your whispers can harm me.
But my softness is armor.
My quiet is a weapon.

I watch.
I observe.
I remember everything without saying a word.
Every slight, every insult, every misguided attempt to define me.
I record it in verse. I store it in prose. I weave it into monologues no one dares hear aloud.

I am a poetess.
I write.
I create.
I exist in the spaces where your noise cannot touch me.
And when you look for weakness, you find strength.

Yes, I am quiet.
Yes, I am soft-spoken.
But do not mistake softness for surrender.
Do not mistake silence for permission.
Do not mistake a poetess for someone you can break.

I am poetry in motion.
I am prose in reflection.
I am a monologue that no one can interrupt.
And while you talk behind my back,
I am building empires in the quiet.
Well that's me
Telling everybody what they see
That I am the villain they wanna see
I hurrah'ed, applaud for them
In turn, they mock me.
****, everybody wanna be like me
Don't wish, I am just a normal, random young adult woman
With broken dreams, broken wings
Not everyone wishes to see.
Like a dragon, it breathes fire
But me, I breathe and exhale poetry.
Next page