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

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.

The only games I play are the ones you won’t— not for lack of skill, but fear of a fair fight.

No sleight of hand, no silver-tongued deceit, no victory stolen in the dark.

So, play true, or don’t play at all.

So take your best shot. I know you thrive in poker, where the stakes are built on bluffs and the win lies in sleight of hand.

But I don’t play at the table. I don’t sit and exchange pleasantries with hypocrites— the ones who wear virtue like a mask, saints when you’re watching, but serpents when you turn away.

Their whispers weave rumors, their tongues sharpened with lies. Smiles in daylight, daggers in the dark.

I don’t play their game. I don’t sit. I don’t bow. And I don’t break.
I take my aim at the target, pull back the string, steady the breath, and send my victory straight to the center— no gamble, no guess— just a bull’s-eye.

Because even the devil plays this ******* game to claim your soul. But I, on the other hand, plays fair by deeds and redemption, forgiveness and having constant communication, faith and belief in God. Only he is deserving of claiming my soul.

You know what I wanted
You got what I needed
I'll let you free tonight
Seeing the bright lights

They say the sky's the limit
Baby, don't reach that limit
Why did we reach heaven
You are my lion living in my den

Why is this feeling keep haunting me
It keeps haunting me
I like it harder like that, like that
I love how you go inside me like that

You know you're the only one I want
You made me crazy about you baby
You got me so addicted to you baby
You're the only one I want

Got to utilize the different positions
Giving you all the attention
Whenever you feel comfortable
Oh babe, you look so adorable

It's fine as long as you're happier with me
As long as you enjoy me
It's fine as long as I satisfy your cravings
Don't worry, I will give you everything

As long as I feed your hunger
And quench your thirst
Our love will never be over
Because I would always choose you first

I hope… I hope I am not molding you for another woman.

I see you, and I can’t help it. Every little thing you do, every laugh, every sigh—I see it, and I wonder if I’m shaping it. Shaping you. Shaping the man I love into something… someone else’s someday.

And that thought burns me. It claws at me. Because how selfish is it to want to touch every corner of you, only to realize that corner might belong to someone else tomorrow?

I’ve traced your habits, learned your rhythms, whispered encouragements when no one was listening. And I fear those whispers, those small tendrils of influence, might be seeds for another woman’s garden, not mine.

I hate myself for it. I hate the thought that in trying to love you… I might be preparing you for someone better. Someone else. Someone I will never measure up against.

I catch myself watching you, studying you, and I feel a sickness in my chest. Because I know that if you fall in love again, if your heart opens the way it has to me, it might open the same way to her.

And the truth is… I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting to guide you. To teach you, to hold you, to shape the world you see with my hands.

But what if those hands are too heavy? What if the way I hold you is not love but… preparation? Training for another woman’s affection, her approval, her touch?

I lie awake at night imagining her. The way she might fit into your life the way I wish I could. And I feel my pulse spike, my chest tighten, my hands clench. Because every moment I spend with you might be a rehearsal for her.

I am terrified that my love is not yours alone. That it has become a mold, a cast, a template for someone who doesn’t even exist yet. And that terrifies me.

I think of the things I’ve taught you without realizing I was teaching you. The patience, the ways to forgive, the little ways to soften the sharp edges of your life… I see her using them one day, and it feels like a knife in my ribs.

I imagine her taking my lessons, using them, loving you the way I hoped I would forever. And I feel my heart crack in a thousand invisible pieces.

I tell myself I’m paranoid, that I’m selfish, that I’m imagining ghosts. But then I catch a smile from you, a gesture, a phrase, and I realize—it’s all too easy for someone else to see. To learn. To love you the way I tried.

I fear that the man I adore could be rewritten by another’s hands, polished by another’s love, molded by another’s touch. And I wonder… is my love a gift, or a warning?

I fear my voice has been too soft, too gentle, too careful, like teaching a child without realizing I’m training a partner for another.

I imagine her standing in my place, and it makes me tremble. Makes me want to scream, to hold you closer, to insist that you remain untouched by anyone but me.

But love is not possession. I know that. And that knowledge, that bitter truth, makes my chest ache like lead.

I want to stop, to pull back, to let you exist untouched… but I can’t. I want to love you without leaving traces, without leaving a map for someone else. But my hands are already on you.

And the thought that I may have unknowingly shaped you, guided you, primed you… it makes me dizzy with guilt. With fear. With a desperate, aching longing.

I hope. I hope that if I’ve shaped you, it was only for you. That the curves I’ve smoothed, the corners I’ve softened, the lessons I’ve whispered… all of it stays between us. That I am not leaving a blueprint for another.

I hope I am not molding you for another woman. I hope my love has been yours alone.

And yet… sometimes I feel that I already have. Sometimes I feel like the shadow of my love has become a ghost you will carry, not for me, but for her.

I feel panic coil in my stomach, tighten around my throat, and I gasp, because I can’t undo the shaping I’ve done. I cannot teach the lessons, unbend the edges. They are yours now… but for who?

I want to apologize to you, to beg forgiveness for every whispered suggestion, every gentle push, every word of praise I gave. I want to say, “I only meant to love you,” but it sounds hollow in the night.

I am haunted by the thought that in my devotion, in my love, I may have created a man perfect for someone else. And that truth terrifies me more than any betrayal could.

But… P.S. I know you will not do that to me, just by how I see you love me—not by the amount of words alone, but by how you treat me, by how you hold me, by how you choose me in every quiet moment.

I hope, I pray, that when the time comes, you remember me not as a teacher, not as a sculptor, but as the woman who loved you fiercely, desperately… and only ever wanted you to be happy.

Even if that happiness is not with me.

The scent of her perfume smells like she owns you now
That even wolves beg to differ the scent of each goes by sniffing and whiffing
The lipstick stain in either your collar or tie serves like a masterpiece I noticed but went on with my life

The hickey marks on your neck suits you— she already made a mark of her own territory.
As if not stolen from another woman.
Did you even work hard for that?
Someone else put in the effort, and it was so easy for you to take it.
You used your flirtation—not your brain—to get it.
Hence, you were no longer mine to keep.

How does it feel now?— was it a kick in a chest? Or was it like your heart got a hole and it was sawed in halves.

I trembled in fear and became anxious of what our married life could be
Somehow, I feel like she was already gatekeeping you
A single strand of her hair made me left questioning my worth
At that moment, I knew you ****** up
You got caught but you have the audacity to deny it

Does your mistress even know how your wife always waits for you to come home
Polish your shoe, iron your clothes, wash them and make it neat and fragrant
Sweep and mops the floor, just to make sure you come home to a tidy household
Only to find out, her scent is all over you
Lingering you, feels like holding you

Despite your infidelity, I still smiled and wiped my tears as if nothing was going on
Sighs, take a deep breath, tomorrow again is another day
That even any alcoholic beverages no longer comforts me

I didn’t hear you argue—  
not loudly.  
But I heard the silence afterward.  
It throbbed louder than a scream.  

The scent of your sadness clung to the curtains.  
I knew something was wrong when you stopped singing while folding my clothes.  

You hugged me tighter those nights.  
Like I was your anchor,  
or maybe just your only witness  
that you were still trying.  

Dad came home with smiles that didn’t reach his eyes.  
He called me “buddy,”  
but his mind wandered—  
maybe to her, maybe to escape.  
His shoes were polished,  
but they brought in dirt I couldn’t see.  

I saw you crying once.  
You said it was the onions,  
but we didn’t have any in the house.  

I used to draw our family with three smiles.  
Now I forget what color to paint Dad’s shirt.  
Blue feels too warm.  
Grey feels more honest.

I just want you both to talk to me.  
Not like a child—  
but like the part of you that’s still holding on to what we were.

They say children forget.  
But I remember in shadows.  
Not the slam of doors—  
but how the light felt wrong after they closed.

You both thought I wasn’t listening.  
I was.  
I always do.  
Between spoonfuls of rice,  
between cartoons and bedtime prayers—  
I pieced together the truth  
like a broken puzzle with jagged edges.

Mom, you stopped humming while cooking.  
Dad, you started wearing cologne that didn’t smell like you.  
Small things. Big meanings.

I saw you, Mom—  
with eyes that tried not to cry when I handed you my drawing.  
Us three stick figures, holding hands.  
You said it was beautiful,  
but your voice broke somewhere between “beau” and “tiful.”  
And I wondered…  
if drawings can lie.

Dad, I missed you even when you were there.  
You sat on the couch but leaned toward silence.  
You smiled, but your phone seemed happier than your face.  
I saw the lipstick on your collar.  
I’m young, but not blind.  
And when you hugged me, it felt borrowed.

I hear things in whispers.  
Things like “mistress” and “betrayal” and “I should’ve left sooner.”  
Words I don’t know how to spell,  
but somehow know how they hurt.

I started keeping secrets, too.  
Like how I stopped writing your name in my homework, Dad.  
Like how I pretend to sleep  
when I hear Mom crying in the kitchen.

You both gave me life.  
But now I feel like I’m holding your regrets in my backpack.  
Heavy. Quiet. Hidden.

Sometimes I wonder…  
If I’m enough to fix it.  
If love was ever enough to keep us safe.

I don’t know what healing looks like.  
But I know what hurting sounds like.  
It’s in our house now.  
And I tuck it in at night.

You think I smiled when I saw him unravel? Truth? I mistook your crown for his to hand me. But I never asked for the robe sewn in someone else's sorrow.

He told me stories—halves and edits, painted you as a cold house with burnt meals and bitter sighs. I believed him. Believed the man who couldn’t even tell the truth to the mirror.

The perfume he wore—mine? No. It was diluted with guilt. And when he came to me, he brought silence where affection should’ve been.

Did I win him? If you call walking beside a man whose heart homes regret and lies—victory— then perhaps I did. But it never felt like triumph. Just borrowed time on borrowed lips.

You washed his sins. I watched him repeat them. Polished shoes and ironed guilt, you made a home— I offered only escape.

I saw your name tangled in his hesitation. I noticed how he didn’t flinch when my fingers searched him, but he shivered whenever your name slipped into the silence.

Perhaps I was never gatekeeping— just unknowingly guarding a man who belonged to a story far nobler than mine.

I didn’t steal your husband.  
He wandered. I opened the door.  
If your vows couldn’t anchor him,  
what makes you think I held the rope?

Don’t look at me like I shattered glass.  
He came to me with shards in his pockets,  
already bleeding, already broken—  
already yours, and yet halfway gone.

He called me “escape.”  
Whispered your name only when guilt cracked through the sheets.  
I didn’t ask for your silence.  
He offered it like dessert.  
A side dish to his tired love and recycled affection.

I am not your enemy.  
I am your mirror.  
Reflecting what he never confessed.  
While you folded his clothes,  
I was untucking his truths.

He smelled of home-cooked compromise.  
Tasted of half-truths and conditional loyalty.  
And you? You let him come back every night  
like loyalty was just habit.

Don't preach to me about morality.  
He wore your love like a coat—  
only when it was cold enough  
to make him miss your warmth.

He told me your love was routine.  
I gave him chaos.  
And he begged for it—  
not once, not twice—  
but every time you forgave him.

I never promised forever.  
You did.  
And yet here he was—  
asking for more of what he shouldn’t crave.

So ask yourself,  
was I the sin or the symptom?  
Because from where I stood,  
the cracks were already showing—  
I just danced on them.

Trying to free me from the chains that they cuffed around my neck, feet and hands
Trying to free me from the pain that I could never understand
Here I am imprisoned in the distress of my past
And burning my soul in hell
But how long will the pain last ?
Unless you wish me well.

“Privacy is power. What people don’t know, they can’t ruin. They can’t twist, manipulate, or destroy what they cannot see. Every thought I bury beneath the surface, every emotion I hide behind a careful smile, becomes a shield I wield without apology. They think curiosity is strength, that prying is clever—but the truth is, ignorance is mine to command. They cannot touch me, cannot claim me, because I have learned the quiet, unassailable art of keeping myself whole and unseen.

I have walked among them, among those who think they understand. I have let them believe they know my fears, my desires, my failures. I have let them assume they have me mapped out like some open book they can carry around and display. But there is no map. There are no labels. There is no doorway into the hidden chambers of my mind, no keys to the rooms where I keep my truths safe. And so, they stumble in the dark, grasping at shadows, while I move unscathed, untouchable, free.

It is funny, in a quiet, almost cruel way, how they strain to know, how they strain to see, and all the while, the very act of trying only proves their weakness. They believe knowledge gives them control. They believe that understanding someone fully is power. But they are wrong. True power is not given by transparency. True power is claimed by the one who chooses what to reveal and, more importantly, what to conceal. I have claimed that power, and it sits in me like a silent throne.

Every secret I keep is a sword. Every unspoken word is a dagger. Not against them, no—against the world that thinks it has a right to me, against the world that believes that openness is vulnerability. Let them talk, let them speculate. Let them construct their narratives, their half-truths, their fantasies about who I am. I watch them, amused, detached. They believe they are influencing me, shaping me. But in truth, they are shaping nothing. I am already complete in the shadows they cannot penetrate.

People fear what they cannot understand. They fear what they cannot see. And so, they invent monsters, invent scandals, invent drama. But I am not a story for them to dissect. I am not a puzzle for them to solve. I am a presence, silent and immovable, and they are left to flail in their assumptions. That is the power of privacy—the ability to exist without invitation, without permission, without exposure.

I am careful, yes. I am deliberate. I do not speak my truths freely. I do not hand over my heart on a silver platter. I do not wear my pain like a banner for others to admire or exploit. And because of this, I remain untouchable. Because of this, I remain sovereign over myself. They cannot take from me what I have chosen to keep. They cannot claim my fear, my love, my grief, or my ambition, because these belong only to me.

It is not loneliness, this careful guarding of self. It is mastery. It is discipline. It is the understanding that freedom is not given, it is taken, and often, it is stolen by those too eager, too careless, too entitled. I have seen how the world breaks those who give too much. I have watched lives dismantled, reputations shattered, hearts fractured, all because someone dared to expose too much. I will not be one of them. I will not be anyone’s open book, anyone’s toy, anyone’s conquest. I will remain in the quiet, and in that quiet, I am unstoppable.

There is a thrill in it, a delicious, subtle intoxication that comes from knowing no one can reach you fully. They can try. They can ask questions, pry into corners of your life, invent stories to fill the spaces where answers are refused. But every question unanswered, every smile that hides more than it shows, every silence that conceals a storm beneath, is a triumph. And I savor it. I savor the knowledge that I am untouchable, not because of what I have done, but because of what I have chosen not to give away.

I have been tempted, yes. I have felt the urge to explain, to justify, to open myself in moments of weakness. But I have learned that those moments are dangerous. In giving someone the map to your interior world, you give them the power to dismantle it. You give them the ability to rewrite your narrative. And I will not allow that. I will not allow them the satisfaction. I will not allow anyone to wield my life like a weapon against me.

So I guard. I conceal. I walk through crowds with the weightless grace of someone who belongs only to herself. I smile, I laugh, I play the part they expect, all the while knowing that the core of me is untouchable, impenetrable. And that knowledge—it fuels me. It fortifies me. It makes every insult, every slight, every betrayal that might have crushed another, dissolve harmlessly against the walls I have built.

Privacy is not just a shield. It is a sword. It is freedom. It is power. What people do not know, they cannot ruin. And I—oh, I—know everything I need to survive, to thrive, to conquer the invisible battles they cannot see. In a world that demands transparency, that worships exposure, that treats openness as virtue, I am the anomaly. I am the exception. I am the one who holds herself intact while others fracture. And that is my victory, quiet but absolute.

Let them talk. Let them speculate. Let them reach and fail. For every glance they cast, every word they whisper, every question they dare to ask, I remain unshaken, untouchable, sovereign. I do not belong to them. I do not exist for them. I am mine, fully and without compromise. And in that, in the sacred, unbreachable silence of my own choosing, I am unstoppable.”

Didn’t know when to start telling you
The truth about what I feel
About this enchanting feeling I felt for you
Didn’t know where I began to feel

That it has always been you
That the entire universe conspired to help me find you
Heaven is in your eyes
I was left mesmerized by looking into your eyes

Please love me more on my bad days
Please stay with me before, during and after
My bad or better days
You and me together

I promise you will always have me right by your side
And I promise to never leave you behind
That feeling I cannot explain
And loving you in ways I cannot explain

If I know what love is
It is because of you
If I know what love is
It has always been you

I fell for you and I still am falling
And this love is worth remembering
Oh, the moon in me finds a sky in you
And, the star in me finds a dark in you

It has always been a pleasure to be drunk in your love
All I want is your time and love
I crave a love that drowns oceans
Got me feeling mixed emotions

Both of us are enough in every way
I love you in all ways
You are enough
A thousand times enough

For you are enough for me
Enough to be loved by me
Your eyes hold everything my soul thirst for
Your hands touch every part of my soul I long for

Your lips parted every part of my soul I want to miss to
Your love made me feel the love I want to

I promise to have and to hold you
To cherish and to love you
From this day on and for more years to come
Until lifetime comes

I love you.

Turn around and spread lies about me, whisper poison into the ears of others. But mark my words—if I ever hear that you were the one weaving that venom, I will not hesitate. I will snap your neck without a second thought.

Do not mistake my patience for weakness. I watch in silence while shadows twist around you, collecting your deceit like a web of smoke. Each word you speak in my absence will be accounted for.

Every lie you spin becomes a thread, and I am the loom. One by one, I unravel them, tracing each falsehood back to its source. And you, the creator of your own destruction, will find yourself at the center.

Do you think I cannot see the serpent coiled beneath your tongue? Do you imagine I will allow your whispers to slither unseen through the minds of those I care for? Fool. Every hiss is noted. Every secret twist of your lips is remembered.

The night is long, and I have walked its darkness alone before. I have listened to shadows and conversed with silence. And in that darkness, I learned one truth: lies have weight. And their weight will crush you.

You may think yourself clever, spinning tales behind my back, painting me in colors you wish to see. But the canvas is mine, and I will erase every stroke of your deceit with a precision so cold it will make the marrow in your bones ache.

I am not a storm you can weather. I am the breaking of the earth beneath your feet, the crack in the world that swallows those who dare betray me. Step lightly, or you will find yourself swallowed whole.

Do you hear the quiet before the storm? That silence is me, watching, waiting, counting your sins. Every whisper, every murmur, every sly grin you cast at another is a mark on your fate.

Do you believe lies can protect you? That venom will shield you? No. Lies are knives, and I am the hand that will turn them inward, into the heart that thought itself untouchable.

I have walked among ghosts, and I have danced with shadows darker than your imagination. I know the language of fear, and it speaks to me of those who betray, of those who spread poison in their cowardice.

And you, who think yourself safe behind smiles and half-truths, will soon taste the cold steel of reckoning. Your lies will not linger; they will come back, sharper, faster, unrelenting.

Do not test me. Do not think my restraint will last forever. Patience is a luxury I give, not a gift. The moment your treachery crosses my path, it ends. And I promise you—its end will be merciless.

The world does not see the lengths I can go to when wronged. But the shadows know. They whisper of the vengeance I cradle, hidden, silent, inevitable. Do not tempt them to reveal it.

Every smile you wear while speaking ill of me is a mask I will shatter. Every friendly word you utter in my absence is a lie I will expose. You cannot hide behind faces; I see deeper than skin and bone.

Consider your actions. The lies you speak are sparks. I am the fire that will consume the bridge you thought you built. One word, one whisper, and you will fall into the inferno you created.

I am not cruel without cause. I am not wrathful without reason. But betray me, and you will know a darkness you never believed existed. You will understand the weight of the shadows I command.

I am patient, but patience is a thin veil. Beneath it, a storm brews—silent, watching, waiting. And when it breaks, it will not stop until every deceit is shattered, until every falsehood is laid bare.

Do you hear the echo of your lies in the halls of your mind? That is me, reminding you, warning you, showing you the path you cannot escape. Continue, and that echo will become your chains.

And when I finally confront you, it will not be with pleading or debate. It will be with the finality of inevitability, the snap of truth against the lies you hold. Your neck, your pride, your delusions—they will all break under the weight of what you have done.

So turn, spread your poison, whisper your deceit. But know this: I am waiting. Watching. And the moment I hear that you have dared to speak falsely of me, I will not pause, I will not hesitate—I will end it. And it will be swift, it will be absolute, it will be final.

You thought by breaking me, heals you—no, it can't be.
Because when you thought it healed you, no. It will haunt you, linger in the depths of your soul, that it is never a right decision to hurt anyone.

Did it gave you enough peace? An ease in your mind? I hope so.

Did it gave you an ample time to sleep so soundly at night? Kinda.

Did your guilt and conscience lets you eat, sleep or work quietly without disturbing you? Perhaps.

Only these questions I asked are for you to answer—time will tell when, when it forbids or not.

Karma will only decide when, and so as your fate as well
So have faith, even when my hope is already quite fainting.

Why do I keep running away from the truth?
That all I need is you
Why do I keep myself being blinded by the truth?
That all I see is you

Why do I keep myself being numb from the truth?
That all I have loved is you
Why do I keep hesitating to know the truth?
That all I want is you

Why do I keep denying the truth?
That all I am missing was you
And why do I keep hiding the truth
That all I want to be with is you

I want to rip your clothes apart—exposing in front of me the one I desire to see
Bathed in golden hue sunset sky
Until the vanilla twilight, I die.

From dusk to dawn, spare me my endurance
Abstinence no more. But I want more.

I like it raw. It penetrates my skin from the inside.

Why do people overthink a lot during midnight? —Everything hits different at midnight.

To answer that, Yes.
If I am one to overthink during midnight,
I tend to ask myself with what ifs and whys...

What if this is not the right path for me to take?
What if I am not pretty enough for him?
What if he will fell out of love from me?
What if I am not enough for him?
What if he was waiting for someone to arrive?
But at first, I was the was the easy one so that made him stay.
Why was I feeling like I am never going to be good enough for him?
Why is he like that?

I tend to overthink a lot before,
I slept late and woke up early.
Yes, I still exist up until today.
Yes, I am still alive and breathing until today.
But not anymore.

That old habit of mine died,
the day I met my partner.
All of my whys and what ifs were already answered now.

Because he gave me a lot reassurances that I am enough for him alone.
And that is much better.

Can’t keep up on my level
You created a monster out of me
That makes me a dauntless rebel
Soothing affairs and comforting lies, they got me

You told me what to do, though I never asked,
Said it’s just advice, but it feels like a mask.
You don’t see the pain that I silently bear,
Unrequited love, but you don’t seem to care.

Ready whenever I like to buzzkill
Don’t be such a bitter pill
I’m one to talk, I thought it would give me a rain check
Fooled me once or twice

But I once returned to 2021
Back to where and when you first met me
It caught me reminiscing on something that was already gone
Though everything has been said and done

It was treacherous and killing me
A global pandemic arises
I regretted every moment slowly fading
Slowly turning into a reality of memories

Heard different sides of the stories
It seems tempting, too unrealistic to believe in
It took me back to when you first loved me
It was heaven, but it felt hellish too

You were kept on love-bombing me
I highly doubted it though
Told me comforting lies and unbelievable truths
Yet you made me rot in hell, like my dignity and worth

But now, you keep coming back
You keep wanting me back
How do you sleep at night?
Do you still think of me?

Do you have any right to keep me?
I think not, I want you out of my sight

Shattered dreams, wasted life
Life is such a messy but beautiful rhyme scheme
Tucked in with a bullet or knife

Cracked door, wounded fists
Black and white tilted tiles on the floor
Our existence is a gift

Stop the urge to commit felo-de-se in a feverish haste
Life is too precious for you to waste
Hoping if there is a switch to turn off or on
Depressed mode, traumatized all alone

I’ve been in therapy for too long now
Talking to myself somehow
I find glee and sorrows in medications and IV
Been astonishingly reminiscing of enchanting poison ivy

In my deep sleep, I lie in my deathbed
Don’t ever weep
I will forever be in your head

Praying for my soul to depart
I’m not in my right mentality
Been experiencing aching heart, irrational personality

I’ve got swollen eyes
Due to your intoxicating lies
My whole life seems to crash
I’ve had a painful and traumatic past

Later then I realized, arson comforts me
The smell of the black smoke soothes me
Counting sheep no longer persuades my sleep
I cry myself to sleep

My soul agonizes and burns
In the scorching heat of Hell
I hope they wish me well
It is indeed a twisted fate of takes and turns

I once remember when I was still alive and breathing
You were glad of my existence, of my undying presence
Those memories we spent together, thinking

Remember when I took you the river
It made you shiver
But you gently flowed me down the stream
I was glowing, shining bright like the moonbeam

I treated you like a king
But you only treated me like a fool
And you only used me as a tool
For you to get everything

I’m so immune already with your unkind lies
Hence, I don’t know how many more turns do I have to twist
But why am I facing this bitter strife?
I wish It would no longer last

I hope this does not last forever
Yet it melts me right through my core
Oh, is it required for me to feel this every day
It still feels like a daydream

I’m still facing this unpredictable pain
No need for me to repeat it
I know I’ll never get over with it

You line me up like domino tiles
If I’m fragile as ****, I’ll know I’m fragile
Then stacks me up like a deck of cards

As I slowly sink from the depths of my despair
And realize that it’s not fair, it ain’t fair

As soon as you let me fall in one place as planned
Like a domino effect
I haven’t realized about its cause and effect
You didn’t even care enough

But for you, there is so many things
That I cannot condone or disregard

Hope you remember the note I wrote in capital letters
“I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU” haunting you alive
While karma seems to knock on your door
Masterpieces and evidence were all laid on the floor

Respect does not come with age. Let’s get that straight.
You can be decades older than me, but if your words drip with arrogance, if your actions reek of hypocrisy, if your treatment of others is laced with cruelty—don’t expect me to call that respectable.

I was taught to value people, yes, but I was not taught to worship them. Age might give you experience, but it does not give you immunity from being wrong. And when you are wrong, I will not stand here, silent, pretending you are right just to protect your pride. That is not respect—that is enabling.

Don’t tell me, “I’m older, so I’m right.” No. Being older means you’ve had more time to learn, but if all those years taught you nothing about humility, kindness, or fairness, then your age is nothing but a number you’ve wasted. As Job 32:9 says, “It is not the old who are wise, nor the aged who understand what is right.”

Respect is not something you demand—it’s something you earn. You earn it by treating people right, by leading with example, by showing that your authority is matched with responsibility. You lose it when you belittle, when you manipulate, when you think respect means unquestioning obedience.

If you want me to respect you, live in a way that deserves it. Give respect to get respect. Speak truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. Own your mistakes instead of hiding behind your years. Treat people as equals instead of looking down from a pedestal built on nothing but the illusion of superiority.

I will not bow to pride disguised as wisdom. I will not flatter arrogance just because tradition says, “Honor your elders.” Yes, I honor—but I will not enable. Yes, I respect—but only if you’ve earned it. Respect is mutual, or it’s nothing at all.

So remember: you and I are standing on the same ground. The same soil will cover us when our lives are over. And when that day comes, it won’t matter how many years you’ve lived—it will matter how you lived them.

Revenge is not yours to begin with,
Your pain and emotions are valid
But what you're planning to do is invalid.

Play your cards right.

They say you're meticulous about cleanliness—whether it's your body, your house, and so on—but don’t forget to scrub your personality too—it’s starting to smell.

But no matter how much perfume you wear or how often you brush your teeth, the filth of your character still stinks.


the shortest the poem is, the longest it stings or what?
worse, you stink!

Take me back, to where it all began
It was never according to my plan
We met back in twenty-twenty
You had me at hello and lost me at being lowkey
I thought you need me

I never realized, seeing you in those eyes
Staring back at me, Was I the only one you see?
I felt like I was love bombing or back burning
Or was it a slow burn trope you want?
You only needed me to fill you up
I now realized I ain't that ******* you want

We were born in the same neighborhood
You live from right across the block
Born in the same generation
Led to a life so different from each other
Grown from a different environment
You from the neighborhood full of chaos
Mine from a sweet and giving one

I thought you needed me,
Perhaps, maybe, baby you wanted me

But that was then,
when i was naive
I lost my faith and it was what I believe
And i thought it was fine
I thought that you were mine

Take me back, to where it all began
I kept recalling everything that I can
But I don't understand
Why you held and let go of my hand

Does it ring a bell?
When you said, I wish you well
I mean well, you seem so happy
Not when you're no longer with me

Fate is where it all began
But it seems distant
It's not you, it's not me
Now who is at fault here?

I want to run away, run away, run away from here
I want to run away, run away, run away from here
Make me disappear, take me away from here
Far away from here

This must be a mistake, seeing you once again like nothing happened
It must be a dream,
A dream I can no longer wake up from,
For you are only here with me now.

Moments lost, suspended in time,
Your presence feels both near and far,
In this dreamscape, where shadows whisper,
I reach out, but you slip through like sand.

Reality’s cruel trick, playing on my mind,
An echo of what was, of what we left behind, Trapped in this endless loop of longing’s brand
Where you and I, forever, stand hand in hand.

You vanished without a trace, but here you are, back like a phantom reborn.
Like a ghost, you returned and now I am torn.

Take me back, to where the stars align
Before the echoes of our past began to chime
Your laughter was my favorite symphony
Now it's just a silent, empty melody.

I wish you well, it's what you said,
But inside my heart, it’s a storm instead.
Our fate began in a distant dream,
Now it's shattered glass, or so it seems.

We blame the stars, we blame the sky,
We can’t see eye to eye.
I wanna run away, run away, run away
But memories chase me, they make me stay.

You are that man I used to love from across the block

Time once told me, that he alone, is karma
He alone will come along and hunt us all down
He will soon partake everything you did in my town
Time is tired from all of our drama

Time indeed tells when I will be able to forget you
It took me time to realize how blessed I was when I met you
It took me time to savor the love you have given me and made me
felt
I admit it, I was once held captive in your arms and it made me
Melt

Therefore, I conclude, it took me time to digest those flowery
words of yours
It came from that intoxicating and disgusting tongue of yours
Hence, time is always on riptide
My time has come to tell you this from the bottom of my heart
Time is indeed the truth teller of all liars

The universe, the spaces and everything in between conspire
Time always told me the truth you could never tell
Time has always been on my side
In the slightest touch of your fingertips

I have forsaken you amidst the troubles and woes you have given me
You gave me nothing but pain
You gave me nothing but heartaches and misery
You let me slip, away from the tip of your fingers

From every word I hear coming from your foolish lips
Everything still keeps on staying, it lingers
Though it was already in the past, but the pain still drips
It still drips in the back of my mind

Thinking why you left me behind
I wrote you poetries in exchange of your betrayals
I wrote you songs in exchange of your lies
I loved you right in exchange of you, leaving me behind

It’s true when Miley Cyrus tells that “Misery loves company”
But I pity you as I envy the girl you replaced me
How come you tell me things and repeated those mere words to her
You chase me now without forgetting you worship me instead of her

Can you not feel déjà vu by remembering your first compliment
I admire the confidence and I judge the poor sense of character
development
I curse you from now on until the day you rejoice on your deathbed
Get that **** inside your head

I know what you are
A poison in my mind
A potion in my soul
A pill on my body
You intoxicate me
You keep messing on my head
Living rent-free
I already buried you deep within
Lust is the only reason why you keep coming back
Asking me for more

If you love me
Just know that I love you more
If you miss me
Just know that I miss you more

If you badly needed me
Just know that I need you most
If you desperately wanted me
Just know that I want you most

You were my first at everything
From first dates to travel goals
You were more than just a fling
But without you, I am just a half of a whole

You were my better half
Yes, you always make me laugh
You’re the reason why I chose you
And you are the reason why I stayed with you

That is why I wrote this poem for you
To tell the whole world that I am yours
And that I was proud to be yours
That is why I love you

You are my best friend
And my lifetime lover
You will always be my forever
I hope this relationship never ends

I’d love to wake up with you in the sunrise
And watch as the sun starts to set
With you, holding my hand
There is nothing more I could ever ask

When I am with you, time flies
This moment is all I never wanted to forget
And right here we stand
I was born ready for whatever you will ask

Five years from now and I’m still yours
Ten years from now and I am still yours
Fifteen years from now and I am still yours
Until we’re old, I will always be forever yours

Three years ago, back to the moment I first saw you
At the back of my mind
I hope I will meet you
And after that, you never left my mind

Being sensitive… they tell you it’s a weakness. They say it makes you too fragile, too soft, too easily broken. They warn you that the world is harsh and that feelings like yours will be stepped on, crushed under the weight of indifference. But what they don’t see… is that being sensitive is a kind of courage.

It is courage to feel when it’s easier to numb yourself. Courage to notice when the world is rushing past, blind to the subtle cracks and silent sorrows. Courage to care when everyone else is too busy surviving to even notice.

Being sensitive means you feel the tremor behind someone’s smile, the quiet weight in the spaces between their words, the storm they’re hiding behind calm eyes. You sense what is unspoken, what is fragile, what is overlooked. And yes, it can hurt. Oh, how it can hurt. You can carry the sorrows of others as if they were your own, and sometimes, in the silence of the night, it can feel unbearably heavy.

But here’s the thing: being sensitive is not weakness. It is not a flaw. It is raw, untamed awareness. It is a heart that refuses to turn away. It is a soul that chooses to see, to feel, to reach out. It is empathy worn like armor, a radical act of rebellion in a world that praises hardness over honesty.

As the Bible says in 1 Peter 3:15, “But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.” Sensitivity is gentleness and respect—it is the power to uphold hope and love in a world that often feels too harsh for either.

To be sensitive is to be alive in every color of emotion, to taste both the sweetness and bitterness of life more deeply than most will ever dare. It is to understand pain and joy in their truest forms, to know that love is not measured by grand gestures but by the small, quiet acts of attention—the listening, the noticing, the holding of space for another soul.

So yes, I am sensitive. I feel too much. I see too much. And sometimes it breaks me. But it also connects me. It binds me to the people who matter. It allows me to love with intensity, to care without hesitation, to understand without needing to be understood in return.

Being sensitive is not a curse. It is a gift. A dangerous, messy, beautiful gift. And I will wear it proudly, even when the world calls it foolish. Because to feel… truly feel… is to be human, fully and unapologetically human.

And in all of this, I hold onto Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Even in sensitivity, even in feeling too much, God is near. His love meets us where we are, heals our wounds, and makes our hearts stronger, tender as they are meant to be.

You, you look like the rest of my life
And I want to have you, you for the rest of my life
But if I am everything, I want to be your Queen
And you are crowned king, and we will have to come clean

But If I am anything, I would be everything
Just for you, just for you
I want to be yours; I am yours.

You are my reason behind my happiness
behind my loneliness
You are my cure after every pain
You are my gain

cat got your tongue?
her tongue is venomous when triggered,
her tears are her serum
she might rip your heart, when she speaks harshly without thinking
experience is her best teacher
scared of a little threat? nah. all her life, she is living in a threat
you can't scare her, she might taunt you
try it, point a gun on her head, she might do the favor and pull the trigger for you.
she is fearless when mad, don't test her limits.
she is kind when you are kind, rude when you are
don't be mad, she just mirrors what you do
scared to taste the bitterness of your own medicine?
she is just warming up, she was never in the exciting part yet
we were still here in the rising action, waiting for your fall like
of Babylon
if she wants to, she would...
like, she jumped out of the fence to run away
she ran away from home and never returned once again
she is a rebel but a softhearted one
she chose to be like that, for the cruel world is like that

when a softhearted girl with an arrhythmia cries a lot— she is hurt.

Lumalalim na ang gabi
Malamig ang simoy ng hangin
Ikaw lamang ang nais kong makatabi
At ang aking gustong makapiling
Oh, paligaw-ligaw tingin
Ikaw lamang ang tanging minimithi

Ayoko munang umuwi
Dito ka muna sa aking tabi
Ayoko nang sa iyo ay mawalay pa
Huwag mo na akong iwan pa

Huwag muna tayong umuwi
Kay sarap pagmasdan ng buwan ngayong gabi
Hawak ang iyong kamay at lasap ang preskong hangin
Ngayo'y nadinig na aking panalangin

Kay sarap pagmasdan ng mga tala
Singkislap ng iyong mga mata
Hawakan mo lamang ang aking kamay
At tayo ay nakatingala sa alapaap
Ikaw lamang ang aking sinisinta, aking pinapangarap
Ang aking minahal ng tunay

Sapagkat hanap ng puso ko'y ikaw
At wala nang iba pa
Dahil mahal kang talaga
Ibubuhos lahat ng pagmamahal at oras sa iyo
Habang ako ay nandito pa sa mundong ibabaw
Ako ay nangungulila sa tuwing tayo ay magkalayo

Sa iyo lamang ako uuwi
Sa iyo lamang ako mananatili
Ikaw lamang ang aking nag-iisang, sinisinta

You call my name, I come to you in pieces,  
So you can make me whole.  

With your love, no doubts,  
I am renewed and accepted once again—  
Forgiven, even better.

I did everything in my power to protect you
Defended your name, your honor
Looked up to you
Almost made you my idol
But it was not enough.
You returned so much worse of what I did great to you.
Debt of gratitude was useless now that I know
Now that blood is no longer thicker than water
I believed too much
I was betrayed in return
Gave you what you deserve
Followed you like I'm an unpaid dog
What else do you want from me?
You ruined me enough, messed up my life worse
Hell is where your throne is
My God is my salvation.
See the difference, would you spot it?
That I am a poet and you are a reckless beast