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woe Sep 2018
Scratch by scratch
The knife is marking my wrist
Tears are streaming down my face
But I feel numb.

Scratch by scratch
I keep leaving shallow scrape on my shin
Tears are streaming down my face
It's starting to hurt.

Scratch by scratch
There's a reddish stroke lining my spine
Tears are streaming down my face
I'm finally alive.
woe Aug 2018
She is blown on every blast,
Racing across the field,
Fluttering to and fro,
Swept up the street.

Her body’s bruised,
Lung’s burnt,
Face’s crumpled,
Smile’s broken.

And yet, within her veil lays agape love,
Unfurled over one scar too many,
Opening larger and larger upon itself,
From one day to the next.


In a world so full of fleeting memories,
Unbidden goodbyes,
Sorrow from hearts of the guilty,
She is timeless.
woe May 2018
“Knees deep in sands, we’ll wander. Let’s sit engaged in guessing”
Much I marvel your every utterance,
I can’t help but to let my mind stray away far as the solar walk.
Its wings are to be unfolded and make leap,
And you’ve known me all too well to ever even dare coming rap.

“As the silence’s unbroken, the stillness starts suffocating”
I sorrow for the morrow,
I furrow in a world of moans.
'Forever' is a children’s tale made to amuse,
And joy’s never one to fuse.
But you, enchant your fancy into smiling.
And roses grow along your curve.

While I, rue.
We, submerge.
woe May 2018
What could be better than an autumn?
Than how this breeze of crisp air which flows through greets you on your way to run a quick errand—letting you see the way it drives each and every red-gold leaves into a large pile on the grass. And if you’re lucky enough, it may blow the fallen leaves around your feet and teach you how to waltz.

What could be better than an autumn?
Than how the clouds wash these suffocating airs to spotlessness—bringing along some sparse drops of rain which become harsher the longer you get rained on, yet are still soothing to your soul.  Deep in your melancholy burst, you still wish for the April showers to bring back your May flowers.

What could be better than an autumn?
Than how a cup of hot chocolate warms both of your hands in so brief a period. Giving you a chance to briefly forget about how the tips of your fingers turn pale and numb—and time, to cherish the faint glimmering of lights lining the street on your way home.

And, what could be better than an autumn?
When you come into my line of vision—wearing your favorite knitwear over a long-sleeved white t-shirt, looking so warm with scarf wrapped around your neck and gloves secured on your hands—and so readily welcome me with the warmest of smiles.

— The End —