I am nothing but a lost traveler, yet I chose the path less traveled by.  
I trusted the process, and it led me to the road not taken.  

Life’s journey offers no shortcuts—each road we take comes with its own imperfections:  
a bumpy one, a straight one, a winding one, or perhaps one shrouded in uncertainty.

A certain someone said—

“You’re ugly. Unpleasant.”

Out of rage, maybe. Out of anger, perhaps.

“I will make your life a living hell.”

And you swore I was lying.

He told me I was like the devil.
I smiled, leaned in, and whispered—

“Oh? Only now do you take notice?
When I have long been the storm’s whisper—
a fire untamed, a shadow unfazed,
a reckoning etched in time.”

You said I had feelings for you.

Really?

“You’re lucky, you know—
because I never once realized
there was anything to know.”

He said he hates me.

Oh?

I was not born to be pleasing,
nor crafted for admiration.
I was not shaped by fragile hands,
nor built to bend beneath expectation.

Let him seethe, let him scorn—
what of it?
The sun does not dim
for those who curse its light.

I exist not to be liked,
but to be unwavering.

He said I was crazy.

Oh, really?
That’s nothing new—
why did it take you this long to realize?
What a shame.

Manipulate me all you can.
I can gaslight you in return.
Be a big bad piggy all your life,
You forgot to know who the big bad Wolfie is.

Dear NKRL,
(You know who you are—I won’t name drop.)

This is the last time you’ll see me, hear from me, or even feel like you still have access to me.
By the time you read this, I might already be married. And I hope that thought pierces through your ego.

God knows how low I had fallen when you met me.
You came into my life at the most unexpected time—
but your timing never quite matched mine.
You made a move when I wasn’t even interested.
And I admit, you had charm.
You were great… until you weren’t.

Back then, I didn’t know what “love bombing” or “guilt-tripping” meant.
All I knew was what I felt—confused, manipulated, and small.
Turns out, I was already experiencing it.
I just didn’t have the words for it yet.

I used to be thankful you’d make time for me despite your “busy schedule.”
But then I realized—I was something you just squeezed in between everything else.
You became forceful about things I wasn’t ready for.
Things I didn’t want.
And we had no label.
I asked for one.
You said we had to keep things discreet—because we were neighbors.

When I became single, you turned me into your fling.
And when you ghosted me, I spiraled.
Overthinking.
Questioning.
Hurting.
“What are we?”
“Was I not enough?”
I felt jealous, angry—but I had no right, because there was nothing real to hold on to.

Eventually, I got tired of waiting.
For the label I was begging and asking from you
But all you gave me were reasons,
Just like how thick a Dictionary is,
It was just like you too.
I got tired of it, waiting for nothing
Not knowing when will that happen.
You always tell me that I do not know how to wait. I am impatient.

So, anyways;
I found someone else.
And you… you backed off. Maybe out of respect, or maybe just because it wasn’t convenient anymore.

Our on-and-off, undefined something faded.
I started unsending the messages I had sent—the ones you never even cared to read.
That’s how pitiful I felt, like I was begging for breadcrumbs you had no intention of sharing.

Then came 2022.
I found my soulmate.
And you—you ruined us.

When my partner found out about our past, he was furious.
And I don’t blame him.
I let you in—not because I still had feelings for you,
but because I thought you were still my friend.
But I was wrong.
You weren’t.
You used that friendship to worm your way in and blur lines.
You abused the closeness I once thought was safe.

I felt like a cup of hot coffee—
left unattended.
And when he finally came back,
I had already gone cold.

But the issue was never the coffee.
It was always the one who was supposed to drink it.

I always waited for him—
until one day, I didn’t anymore.
Because time won’t wait for me,
and I can’t keep letting it pass me by
while holding on to someone
who never truly held on to me.

How can I say yes to your demand when it was against my favors?
How can I be with you when you are not the man I prayed for?
How can I even hold your hand when you never extended it for me to reach?
How can I choose you when you only choose me when you are bored?
How can I form a relationship with someone who only saw me as a **** buddy?
How can I go back to you when you only saw me as a past time hobby?
How can I love you when you cannot even afford to love me first?
How can you offer me comfort when you cannot even provide for yourself?

I am grateful for the memories, truly
But I never realized that,
Not all closed doors when opens are from God,
Sometimes it leads you to the wrong person or direction.

But one day, whenever I see you
I’ll never learn to smile the same again.
Maybe the scars will stay a little longer.
But I know this deep in my bones:
I’ll make it through.

And if you ever decide to wait for me—
truly wait—
then maybe, just maybe,
you'll find me
not where you left me,
but somewhere stronger.

By the way,
thank you so much for holding my hand—
I truly thought you were the one pulling me out of the storm.
Somehow, I was wrong.

You were the reason for my drowning,
the weight beneath the waves,
the anchor I mistook for rescue.
You weren’t my light—
you were my darkness.

So here I am now—stronger, wiser, finally done.
No more waiting. No more unsent messages.
No more trying to decode your silence.

This is goodbye.
No closure needed.
Because I’ve already closed that door myself.

—Me.

Hypocritical hearsays & homilies of the humble & ***
Tricking temptress, ticking time-bomb.
Slithering silver sly snake,
Red-troubled lipstick—
A well-mannered, educated *****.
Oops, I forgot— You never even finished college.

I only spoke to you once or twice,
Yet your mother-in-law bit back,
Told me to back off,
To never insult you.

Tch. A side-eye and a smirk are all I ever needed.
I never touched you, never harmed you.
Your boyfriend assumes too much,
Exaggerates just enough
To make his story plausible,
To pull them all to his side.

Degraded attitude
wasted personality.
Who are we to be hypothetical?
Hypocritical? Pretentious—you are.

Never be humble yet *** at the same time—
It is a tool for gardening,
hence, never an act of immorality.

You flaunted your old, secondhand, silver, ruined car,
Trying to impress,
Trying to boast.

But I was never swayed,
Never struck by how you hustled
To put wealth on display—
All the while, Spending money that was never yours in private.

He found comfort in expensive wine.
She found comfort in cheap hands.
I wasted a lot of years for a molded bread
for an expired milk, butter and cocoa powder
I wasted a lot of time cooking
for your meals—
let it be known— hotdog, sausage, bacon, pork and chicken.
egg and noodles on the side.
fries as appetizers, chocolates as desserts.

You're so good at fabricating stories
to make your mom believe you.
Whenever we're at grandma's house,
you complain to your mom,
acting like you're the victim,
but we never even laid a hand on you.
Excuse me—you should be ashamed of yourself.
Has your brain caught a cough for you to think like that?
Or maybe your mouth has been strained—feed it properly.
Stop indulging in vices like drinking and smoking.
Eat proper food so your strained mouth can regain some health.

Insult me all you want—I don't care.
Fabricate stories all you want
that's what makes you happy, right?
That's what you're good at, right?
To make your mom believe you
and make her think we're the bad ones who lack compassion.

I could knock both of your heads together.
Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the pear tree, right?
Ironically, you're both the same—brains full of mucus.
It really has an effect on you, huh?
You keep ranting, but your words are empty, like a hollow can.

you knew,
I knew.
we knew each other for 25 years,
but in a single blow, I forgot about you
I forgot that you were even my cousin
I forgot that you even existed.

I could look at you right now
like I never knew you
that even at the back of my mind
I was planning, plotting for revenge
thinking of ways on ******* you
in different ways,
or how many stab wounds will it take
for you to die.

but it was all a blur.
a memory I declined to act upon.

No revenge, just poetry.
Play fair or lose everything.
Choose the right cards to fold or raise;
choose the right piece to move, or else checkmate.
Choose the battles you prefer to win—do not outwit me.
You don't have to send your army of evil just to make me change my ways. Nah.

I prefer my words like ice—
my tongue, a blade honed to perfection.
My presence shatters like broken mirrors,
leaving only jagged reflections behind.
And when my eyes meet yours,
they do not waver—only burn with disgust.

Even if you thought you already won—nah, I am just warming up.
If you thought I was scared just because I didn’t overreact, you assume too much.
Looks can ****—take note.
What kills you most isn’t how I look at you,
but the way it itches you to see me not give a f*ck.

I always wonder why
Over time, my poems changed its tune
And why the ways of writing
Has somehow led me on a different direction;

Was it because I always tried my best
To rhyme my poem
Or to write in free verse
Or to write my feelings like a prose
Or to converse in narrative poems?
Or was it because I used to be young.

I was filled with so much hatred and anger
That I chose to fight my battles in secret
And let people see the results of my victory
Or maybe because I chose to keep silent
Even if I was given the chance to speak up

Maybe I chose to never tell them the truth
And told it to Hello Poetry instead
I was filled with so much forgiveness and sympathy instead
That I needed to be selfless
In order not to be labeled as selfish.

Or was it because I used to be young,
Innocent, immature and naive
Foolish, for a fact
That I thought when one cares about me
They needed something in return from me
I mistook and misunderstood plasticity from concern
Time told me then again, you revealed your true colors
And I was right, with your color of rainbow was somehow monochromatic to be exact

My guts told me about it all along
But I was tricked by my eyesight,
Even, by my heart and mind, deceived me.
At last, I was freed from their corrupted mind and treacherous heart.

That was because I used to be young.

Now that I am old,
Wise enough not to be told foolishly,
I learned my lessons
Gave up my sinful life and turned to God
I worry nothing more because I was freed.

The best artist is God.
For creating such a great masterpiece—
flexing like a true work of art.

If you think you aren't pretty,
Honey, you are.
But it truly depends,
since
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
Yet I believe, wholeheartedly,
"We are all created in the image and likeness of God."

At exactly three AM of VI/X/XXXV— it was a decision I made that changed my life. A rash decision based on what I wanted to feel at that time.

This was the hardest story I could ever tell the world—about what really happened to me. It was an awareness, that we have to be very careful who we chose to welcome in our life.

Everyone can be our friend—male or female, regardless of what gender. But some men, though I do not overgeneralize the fact, that my perpetrator is a male. A xxv-year old male, never attractive or my type—but he was a corrupting minor.

I was only XV at that time, maybe what made me drawn to him, was how he saw me regardless of how invisible I was in the eyes of others. I love the attention he gave me. The time he spend with me. But I was not his and he was not mine as well.

For some, it was an eye-opener but for some it was grief.
That nightmare I experienced, I hope it was only a dream that when you wake up it was no longer there;
But, that was not the case, at all.

He left me a scar that took me forever to heal, a trauma I cannot get rid of. I struggle to trust people's intentions. I judge people easily when someone wants to come into my life. I questioned God from before, I even questioned my identity.

Will someone love me or accept me? I felt so ***** at that time. Everytime I look at myself in the mirror, I look like I was too transparent for everyone to see when they look at me.

When someone talks behind my back, I became anxious.
My therapist diagnosed me of having Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD) because even in my dreams, he visited me.

To the old me, back in XXXXXV—I am sorry that I caused you too much pain. You struggled on your own. You became home-schooled, faced the challenges on your own, sent away by your parents for a rehab, you learned how to become an independent person. You found your way through Poetry, you opened your old wounds for people to look at, not being judged.

To the young and naive you, thank you for being brave. For facing your problems on your own. Thank you for molding me into what I am today. I hope your inner child is healed already, because you were forced that at such a young age, your mother believed that "Maturity comes with age" but you realized that "Maturity depends on the kind of experience you had."

To the new me, you can smile and laugh now, for you have been freed—not by kindness, but by years of forgiveness and repentance. Let go of things that we cannot control or hold dear of. Life is always like that, very unpredictable and chaotic—but it is very pleasing to live a good life despite of its chaotic measures.

---_yndn.

A favorite song of mine titled Sa bawat sandali sung by Amiel Sol always left me a last song syndrome impression.
I always remember the moments when my hubby gets tired from work or from anything else. He always wanted to see me. He always wanted to seek for my comfort, and I understood him.

That is why when I always hear this song, it made me reminisce because I am thinking of him. When the world is too chaotic for you to bear, or when you can no longer carry the weight of the burdens you felt, just come to me and I will always welcome you with open hands and hug you right away.

Be the peace and resting place your partner seeks. Be there for him or her. Like the clouds, they cry when it is too heavy for them to not carry their excess baggage anymore.

The chorus went like:

Kapag magulo na ang mundo
(When the world becomes chaotic)

Ikaw ang payapang hinahanap-hanap ko
(You are the peace I long for)

Tumakbo ka rin patungo sa 'kin
(Run toward me as I run to you)

Kapag bumibigat na ang iyong dibdib
(When your heart grows heavy)

Ika'y sasalubungin
(I will be here to welcome you)

Mark 10:9, which states: "Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate."

No one will be allowed to destroy what God has brought together.
The union forged by divine hands stands unshaken beneath the weight of time and trial.
Bound not merely by fleeting emotion but by a sacred covenant, it weaves through the fabric of destiny, unyielding to discord and untouched by mortal interference.

What is born of grace remains steadfast, weathering tempests, defying doubt, and rising anew with each dawn.
Though shadows may loom and voices may challenge, the promise endures—an echo of eternity, a vow sealed not by man’s decree but by the whisper of the divine.

No force, no circumstance, no frailty of the world can sever what was breathed into being by love itself.
What God has joined together is not a mere arrangement, but a bond written in the stars—a testament to resilience, to faith, to the unbreakable nature of a union rooted in something far greater than human hands could mold.

Everybody told me what was so good in "goodbye," Our friendship seems to end, but I can't tell you why. Who are we to try, to break it down, or just let it go?

I know, I know, it breaks your heart. Now I see why we are strangers again. I thought you would remain by my side forever, but no.

But there are some lyrics, waiting to be sung
Some stories waiting to be heard
some gossips waiting to be scattered
but no, I'm not one of them.

There is always a different side to every story
But this one's an interesting history
This story was no allegory
But a fact-based tell-tale to tell up until century

It was made up by these maritesses
Feeling inspectors, judges and witnesses
As if, they saw the scene of the crime
Blabbering about nonsense things at that time

Just like the issues fade, people fade
It might take us all in a decade
But they revealed everything
And it gets interesting

We go round in circles blaming everyone
Some scattered hearsays and hoaxes are on the run
Trying to please everyone
That ***** sure had a lot of fun

Who among these people are deserving to be blamed?
Yet, we can't even point fingers or name names
How about a rain check on the situation
Let's ask her for her true intentions

Now you try to walk around losing your head
I heard, the devil is off with your head
But have you seen your head in that silver platter
There's no need to flatter

Now you're everyone's talk of the town
All of the rumors were spread in your town
You let everyone down
In your sorrows, you drown

Well, let me tell you the story of the couple from *
I know you were either interested or intrigued to hear it too

Little did everyone know
She felt guilty, went to his grave and pleaded to him to forgive her
The deceased's kin were too angry to face her
Vengeance will be served, and so is justice too
Karma is already on the upper hand's menu

Moments are capsulized that turned into memory
A congratulatory address turned into an unforgettable eulogy
Beauty sleeps turned into "in the loving memory"

Even my wounds that cut so deep can’t be healed by a band-aid
**** up and forget the promenade
Let me take you somewhere to juggernaut down memory lane
Every grain, every salt, you’re no saint

You’re the mastermind of everything
Every time the pendulum swings
Karma is already knocking on your door
I hope you rot in hell, down to the core

Time flies by so fast, the moment you broke his wings
He can no longer fly away with his broken wings
Sometimes clock ticks’ life away
Whenever we were unaware, it goes to waste or fly away

By the way, orange shirt suits you.
Being behind bars is one of the things I like to see you in.