Please, tell me...
Tell me if you love me,
I still don't know what you think of me
My heart serenades for your love endlessly,
I won't bat an eye if all went down tragically

With my life of screaming melancholy,
tell me that you loved me.

The wounds of breathing today,
Brews the anxiety of tomorrow.

Reaching out,
what was out of reach
the mountain of air
built by the ignorant, I
-

                            a waterfall
forms an empty sea

-
shouts of anguish
                         , whispers

                     to

               m e

-
a faucet
with nothing to;
bleed

-
n(a)ive girl
weeping from the sounds
of mockery

I'm not selfish!
You haven't experienced the weight and woe
that accompany me with each tick of the clock;

I was--no;
I always disapproved of the things I've done,
I've regretted trusting with such nativity,
I always offered too much

I wanted to be accepted,
so I did what I thought I should do.
I tried changing myself,
I attempted to be like them, and
to somehow be similar.

It was of pure envy,
I wanted to be like them
Attractive, and having
countless friends

I wanted and needed;
And, instead of being envious,
I was greedy or maybe both;

I kept on suppressing my own emotions,
I push back the tears before they even form.
I would look unpleasant if I allow them to fall.

With an effort to perfect myself,
I desperately tried to improve with
the talent that I possess.
I was frustrated
each time it looked--so horrible.

Yet, blinded by my own perfectionism,
I overlooked the progress made.

"What a fool,"

He wasn't sure,
and this is what irritated him.
This sense of helplessness is what he despised.

"You're not fond of this, but all you talk about is yourself, right?"
.
.
.
.
.
You.
.
.
.
.
.
you,
.
.
.
.
.
you,
.
.
.
.
.

you.



How egotistical.

I've grown so much,
yet I feel small.

even if I tried,
would they notice me
at all?

Let me crush those eyes that failed to see the beauty in them,
and hold your hand that held;
that warmth I always craved
The bitterness never leaves my taste,
even with my heart that you served on my plate.

"So, What should I do with the body?"

"Dispose of it, and make sure that it is never to be seen again."


(Yeah--- this was supposed to be about being envious but well being envious makes you hungry;

Gluttony, I suppose that in some way people have them.

We all have this starvation for the things we don't have or maybe we already do;

Although, satisfaction is yet far from its peak.)

Oh, I can't put this down the notes since I always get 502 bad getaway;

Blue skies, city lights
in this broad planet
You can feel small,
and you'll never know why

Look at the mirror,
let out a pitiful sigh
Ask your reflection, "who am I?"
only to never hear a reply

You look away;
as silence pierces through your lungs,
you ask the person in front of you
if you were good
.
.
.
.
.
.
enough


"no," they said.

You shall yearn for things you cannot attain,
envy to bring thyself more excruciating pain,
tell one the untruth just like you do to, I.

Face the mirror,
find yourself,
and meet me in due time.

.
.
Oh, why must this be!
In this pretend society,
it proceeds to drown me in
insecurities, frustration, envy.

We are our very own droplets of the universe,
each person with uncharted galaxies
that not all people can descry

Most of us are prone to ire,
a single remark
can spark a fire

Fearing to be seen as imperfect,
we change the pure essence
of ourselves,
that very
moment

Do I even know me?

I started to think
if there was even a calm
before the storm,
our minds frantic,
and
I'm concerned
.
.
Life is a dance, never-ending!
A game of musical chairs,
with a sole chair for all of we

Unaware about the
hundreds of seats
surrounding it;

All this negativity
just because of a flaw
within
me
.
.
.
you,
and
everybody.

There are times where I desperately want to improve,
but forget to look back to see what I've accomplished.

I criticize myself
under a microscope
devoid of all hope,
as I continue to display
the raging ocean
on a dusty shelf,
left all but forgotten.

******* by the century-old life
which I created, that was never there.
I breathe in the depravity and loss.
And of you—the one that I lost.

I continue to fall under
the trance of repetition;
in addition to the grief
that crowds my vision

I have discarded
the golden arrow,
pointing to the right path,
walking 'round in circles,
how does each breath cost?

I am afraid that
I have grown to love the war,
the fear, the woe, and the anxiety of something
that looks so close but is far.

Now, every stroke of the painting
of the memories that I create,
engraved in the mind of the lonesome author
who does nothing—but over-analyze it.

If one can be drunk on love,
I'd rather stay sober
than having headaches
and the wretched pain
of a hangover.

I get these silly hiccups,
and it bothers me
but I'm far too sluggish,
so I let them be

isolation has its familiarity,
as happiness is a drug
yet not as addicting as
misery.

Jenga with words seems easy yet,
every brick I grasp for,
tumbles right back at me

I've dreamt of floating near the coral reef,
with fishes swarming around me
Although concerns swallow it,
I'm afraid to dive deeper.

I wouldn't simply flick the brush
in regards of painting you;
You're more than that to me.

I'd stare up high looking at the real ones
and use them as reference,
to at least be able to paint you in the same league...

You've captivated me
unlike any other nebula I've seen.
To the point, that urging myself to look away
and move on comes to the scene—

Because my mum told me
to never look at the sun directly.
Funny, how I never listen
knowing I got blinded by you.

However,
I also think of you as the moon.
Cold and very far away,
Unable to reach you.
I'm no astronaut,
But if I could—I would.

You've got me wishing for you,
Like lovers longing for each other.
But you are a star,
and I am but a man.

I'm nowhere near
the level of other women,
I'm mediocre at best.

But, I would have painted you better
than any other woman could.

I need a breather,
for I have set a timer,
in each fraction of my life

I've never tried running a marathon but,
I have always felt that I'm running out of time.

My dearest Angelina —

Your lips were as red
as the mistletoe that hung above us
on christmas eve;
Now your stomach was covered
with the color that I loved,
And your head hung low
when my blade pierced you
as it rained.

Half full yet...
I keep
dripping,
spilling,
crying,
breathing.

Everything creeps up,
and I empty myself.

I empty... myself?
They empty me.

Thoughts past zero degrees,
ice-cold breaths give me a mouthful of red.

empty cup, empty head,
an efficient way
to keep myself there.

I cannot see the beauty in me,
for I've tainted myself with lies and impurity
Hid in a house made
with concrete irresponsibility,
and now they hold no trust in me.

I painted the exterior as if the one who did it wasn't me,
and had the inside done with walls I can't even reach.

gone is the real me,
I locked the door and threw away the key.

a toned color of red smeared on my body,
only wishing to tear each part of me to see what's wrong and how empty I came to be.

The appetite of a people-pleaser cannot be appeased,

due to the want of satisfying everybody's needs

fear creeps in
was it anxiety?

choking on the sobs
which never existed

I nervously laugh
at my foolish self

With nothing to gain,
and everything to lose

I'm such a disappointment.

why am I crying?
I'm the one at fault,
i hate it

Your love is a music box,
a melody that surrounds me;
it intoxicated me.

Love me now,
so that I can feel safe

Love me now,
so I feel complete

Love me now,
so all worries bid goodbye

Love me now,
so I won't be wanting things;

Things I can't have

Love me now,
so I won't be paranoid

Love me now,
so I can escape this everlasting winter snow

Love me now,
so I can be in your arms

Love me now,
so I won't feel like an empty vessel

Love me,
like those people with happy endings

Love me,
so I can feel warm

Love me now,
so I can breathe

Love me now,
so I can see

So I can live...
Yet I can't force you, not because I know that it is wrong
I'm just too tired now.

Summer at your home;
thy embrace, warm.

Mondays of June,
those coffees with you
felt like love so true


-
....must we?

In this world
we constantly move;
and you should improve to
avoid being left in the dark

That's why you can never stop
and ask yourself if you're even enough.

When the time comes, I'd feel so numb and empty.
I really want to ask this to you.

Would you comfort me? Like how I comforted you?

Try all my best, like I did for you?

Despite that brewing storm inside me, would you come and rescue me?

Will you be there to wipe the melancholy tears as it falls like the heavy rain?

Can you make me happy, like how I try to do the same; just for you?

Would you care for me, Like I did for you?

All by Myself, In a room with no doors, just four corners. Alone in the dark.

What would you do?

All the roses wither, the flowers fall,
and I see vines over the wall.

The chair where a little girl once sat on;
was tied down by the roots, left to rot away.
Accompanied by bones, and memories of one who was in dismay.

A stranger strolls across the worn-out halls,
Rustle, rustle the leaves say.
Silence screams in his head, with each step forward.

Splish-splash
The raindrops fall while tears
plummet to the floor;
Like your façade that affects all.

You came to me out of the blue, didn't you?
You came to me, yet left me so fast.
How could you?



How could you...

Never to speak
in front
of an audience;
fearing to breathe
with the
curtains falling
as I cry
in shame

your hips in my hand,
I'd swing you to no end
I'll hold you, darling
...please hold me too.

Then, maybe.
I'll be yours,
and you'll be mine
once again.

The thing about time is that it seems so long,
yet it can easily slip out of our hands

It seems so hazy,
one goes fast
one is slow
and there is this one
that feels like a dream

I don't want to let go of it;
don't run
don't walk

don't stop
don't go.

The itsy ****** spider went up the water spout
down came the rain of dreams they'll never gain
Out came the sun along with the blinding pain

Now, the itsy bitsy spider went up, and feel it all again.

It's funny how I always think of you,
as my sanctuary, someone I can run back to,
and tell that "I love you,"

But all there is a wonderful raconteur
that filled you with alluring words and beauty
All you are is a piece of art;
an illustration of imagination

I am head over heels for you
despite knowing how troublesome;
it is to me

In the end, all I can say--is that;
"She is my Wonderwall,"

I tell the made-up stories of raconteurs
pouring their hearts out on empty paper

I help people learn, love, and laugh;
They dream with others as a source of
happiness, hope n' stuff

'your name' appears in books
that makes people cry

I am somehow a sanctuary of
people with dreams that remain fruitless
They use my name to fantasize about the times
they can never fully feel;

I, y/n.

I've lied
but don't we all?

As we grow,
a part of us dies.

Like an onion skin
layers of lies envelop me
They said that I've changed,
yet I don't know which way

I've played pretend,
tried masks and
eventually forgot
which one was
truly mine.

Long gone were the times where
we serenade with such love and promise,
the time where you prove everything to show it
in hopes of them reciprocating your calling

Now was when we give gifts, and chocolates,
along with a sea of flowery compliments
A simple "I love you." would do it,

While some prefer that comforting silence,
quiet but genuinely loving.