She was the ocean to my waves,
the melody I long to sing forever.
May her love stretch to the deepest parts of the sea—
boundless, enduring.

She is the face I dream of in our daughter,
the smile I want to bathe in every single day.
Her skin—soft, warm—is the touch I ache to hold.
Her hair, the strands I long to comb,
gleams like freshly paved roads beneath the sun.

Her lips, the ones I yearn to kiss,
fit perfectly with mine,
as if they were made only for me.
And her heart—oh, her heart—
is the one I wish to wrap mine around,
forever and always.

Her love is like a cool breeze on a scorching summer day—
blowing through me,
cooling me,
reviving me,
as I wait for it with open arms.

Her very existence is my reason to live,
the air I breathe,
the spark of my love.

She is like summer—
it comes and leaves a lingering warmth in your heart.
But she is trapped in the cage of her own mind,
a cage she sometimes can’t fight her way out of.
She lies still, staring at the ceiling,
wondering what her next move should be.
Sometimes, she wishes she could shout to the world,
tell them how she feels,
but she never does.
The silence around her is deafening.
If only she could spread her wings and fly,
but she’s always stuck,
locked inside her thoughts.
She fills the hearts and minds of others,
but never the one in her own heart—
the one she longs for,
the one that feels just out of reach.
If only she could catch up to her—
the one she dreams of,
the one she waits for.
She sits in silence,
waiting for a sign,
hoping that one day,
the girl she desires will make the first move.
Caught between hope and a lack of confidence,
she waits, longing for the day
when she will fall in love with the one she wants,
when the world will shift,
when her heart will beat in perfect sync with another.
When will she be like summer—
missed and longed for?

The blue, crystal-clear water came closer and closer
as her body came crashing into the water.
She embraced the cold water
as she sank lower and lower into the depths,
becoming one with the water.

Life’s sweet, like frozen delight,
Melting fast, lost in flight.
Moments slip, vanish in time,
Gone before we climb.

Bitter-sweet is the love of parents.
They love us so deeply,
to the point of breaking every bone in their body
just to move mountains for us.

They fight for us—
for the things they never had,
for dreams that once seemed distant,
unattainable,
impossible even.
But to them, the sweetest reward
is seeing their children achieve what they once thought only a myth
what they believed could never be done.

Some parents may say their kids are smart,
but every child knows,
it’s because of their parents
that they’ve come this far.
This dream, so far-fetched for many,
becomes worth reaching for
for the honor of their parents,
to make them proud,
to give them the joy of boasting about their children.

In the eyes of the world,
our parents may seem lazy, poor, or even ignorant
but if the world could only glimpse into their hearts,
it would weep.
For they know so little,
yet they give so much,
doing everything to give us the best.

Treat your parents right,
for they are learning in this world, just as you are.
They may come off as slow or unknowing,
but they are our parents
the ones who love us without asking for anything in return.

Oh, to be loved by someone who wants nothing but our happiness
God made parents second only to Him,
for only parents can love as deeply and unconditionally as He does.

At first glance, he seemed within reach,
but my heart was set on something far beyond.
As he began to warm my heart,
he started to slip away—just out of reach.

From a distance, I could only glance at him,
yearning for a touch, a moment, anything.
He was like shattered glass,
broken by the very poison he kept drinking.

And I—
I wished he would let me heal him,
let my love be the cure his body and soul needed.
But he never wanted it.
He chose the poison over the antidote.

He would rather drown in that endless loop of hopelessness
than reach for the hand that could save him.
Oh, how I wished he would.
Oh, how I wished he would turn and look at me.
Oh, how I could have cured him.

But his little heart watched in silence
as others indulged the poison he craved.
He doubled it. Tripled it.
And slowly, he began to fade.

When our eyes no longer met,
I stood still.
And instead of reaching out again—
I watched.
I let him go.
I let him enjoy the poison he loved more than life itself.

And so, I turned my gaze inward.
He missed my glance.
He felt its absence.
And he wondered why I stopped looking.

But by then—
I was miles away from him and the love he rejected.
I had moved on.
The cure he once refused
became the very poison he could never have again.

He missed his chance.
He regretted it.
Now he’s trapped in that same loop.
Everything he wants is out of reach.

No one spares him a glance.
He is invisible.
Worthless in the eyes of others.

He may never feel the warmth of someone’s gaze again.
Now, he must choose—
to find a new cure,
or a poison that kills more slowly.

A big man,
muscular and stern,
his face carved with seriousness.
He approaches slowly—
anxiety creeps over you
with every step he takes.

You wonder:
Is he coming to warn me?
Or is he bringing vengeance?

Then, just a foot away,
he speaks—
a rough, rugged voice:
“Hello, my name is Philip.
Nice to meet you.”

And in that moment,
a wave of understanding washes over you.
His voice, though strong,
carries warmth—
a strange familiarity
that sweeps away your fear.

He smiles—
genuinely.
He offers a helping hand,
the kind only a rare soul extends.

A soul that gives 100%
and expects nothing in return.
One who would drop everything for you—
even on his last leg.

A kind, loving friend.
Perhaps a brother in spirit.

His kindness overwhelms your gratitude.
Could you ever repay him?
Not in one lifetime—
not even ten.

Could anyone ever replace him?
Oh, how I wonder.
How did we get so lucky
to encounter such a person?

Ooo, how I wish him nothing but success.
Ooo, how I have prayed for him.
Ooo, how I hope the world isn’t cruel to him.

Let not the world steal his kindness.
Let him never lose that smile,
his sunshine soul,
his beautiful innocence.

May he never break
under the weight of ungrateful hearts.
May he never lose himself
to things he cannot change.

May God protect his purity—
for people like Philip
are once-in-a-lifetime miracles.

He sat alone,
a single rose and a diamond gleaming at his feet,
beside him a woman of rare beauty,
and around him his own island, untouched by time.
Everything he had ever wanted,
everything he once dreamed of,
was now his.

But why did he feel so empty?

The genie had granted his three wishes:
Riches beyond measure.
A stunning princess to call his own.
A paradise to rule in solitude.

Yet he had forgotten the most crucial wish
he had not asked for youth, nor for health,
nor for joy to fill the hollow spaces of his soul.

What good were diamonds
if his bones ached and heart faltered?
What use was the beauty beside him,
if love could not find its way into his tired eyes?
What comfort did the sand bring,
when no footsteps came to share it?

The woman watched him from a distance,
bewitched and puzzled
how could a man have so much
and still look so lost?

And so he sat,
on that golden beach,
surrounded by the glittering results of his desires,
haunted by a twist of fate
and the silence of a wish
poorly spent.

In the past,
I used to cry at just the thought
that I wouldn’t get to see you—
not even your shadow.

Thoughts of you flooded and plagued my mind,
dragging me to the edge of destruction.
Your body and your mind enchanted me,
crippling my sense of peace.

You never truly cared about me—
not even once.
And yet…
if I had the chance to do it all over again,
I’d still get entangled with you,
even knowing you'd hurt me.

Sometimes,
I wish you hadn’t given me hope.
You should’ve been cold, distant,
mean or condescending.

But no—
you were kind,
sweet,
encouraging.

Even though you never loved me,
you treated me like a human.
And that,
that made me love you even more.

This unfamiliar taste in my mouth
the taste of success.
Once, I never thought I’d ever taste it.
I’ve always suffered from a lack of intelligence,
a lack of luck.
Then, suddenly, I keep striking gold,
constantly.

What has changed?
Why am I getting this sudden burst of luck?
What is the reason?
Did I miss something?

This feeling is so strange.
I don’t think I could’ve prepared myself for this moment.
As I stand in front of everyone,
as they congratulate me for my success,
this has never happened to me.

I need to pinch myself
maybe I’m still deep in sleep,
lost in a dream.

I wonder
is this how everyone feels when they taste success?
Meant with self-doubt and confusion,
or do others step into success with certainty,
mentally prepared for it?

I guess my prayers finally worked.
Maybe this is what was meant for me.
It could be…
for sure.

She was an angel, having descended from heaven,
But suddenly sickness overtook her, and she was in the hospital.
In bed she lay, and she thought,
While time passed by as people passed by.

Those whom she had helped, those whom she had brought up,
Took turns visiting her once, but never more.
She felt used, abandoned,
After having given so much, she had little in return.

Excuses were given, "I'm busy, I'll come later,"
But later never came.
Oh, how she longed for someone, anyone,
To come to her deathbed.

Little did they know,
She was falling into a quiet chasm,
A darkness despair that wrapped her around slowly.
She prayed every night to the Lord,
For her soul to be washed away,
For peace, liberty.

And on one dark evening,
When she whispered a dying prayer to the stars,
The devil heard her prayers
And, with shaking smile, came and took away her soul.

She was gone
And the silence remained on empty halls,
A spectral reminder of love unrequited,
Of an angel who had sunk too low.

My youth is fading—
the time I have as a young woman is slipping away.
Oh, how I wish I could embrace someone,
at least just once.

The clock ticks, and so do I,
ticking away my youth,
my childbearing years.
The world is so harsh to a young woman,
so unforgiving, so cold.

Oh, how I long for a family—
a place I could return to,
one that welcomes me with open arms,
where I could curl up and forget the weight of the world.
But here I am,
wasting away,
all alone,
on my own.

Maybe love isn't for me.
At least, I wish I could taste it once—
once where it’s patient, where it’s kind,
where it’s not twisted or fleeting,
and we grow old together.
One where we can count each other’s grey hairs,
and even when death is near,
it takes us both,
together.

Bound by soul and heart,
inseparable,
our fates intertwined,
written in the stars for each other.

I sit here, wondering—
is love meant for me?
Or is the time I need to wait still ahead?
Has the one written for me already died,
or is he oceans away, waiting for me in heaven?
Perhaps he’s waiting,
or perhaps I’m falling deeper into madness,
longing for something
I may never have.

The price of success is so expensive,
that some may never be able to afford it.
It can be sweet, yet so sour—
sweet for those who achieve it,
but bitter for those whose potential remains unrecognized,
whose abilities go unnoticed by themselves.

Success may not be about luck,
but rather pure determination.
Yet, luck has a way of making success flourish,
making it bloom over time.