Rebirth

For a little moment,
For a short time.

The book covers itself with dusty clouds
underneath all the old toys and old clothes
waiting for someone to brush them off.

It tries to turn and twist with all its might,
but gets nothing favourable in return.

Just silent,
and nothing but the looks of despair.

How it wants to be opened,
and how it wants to be seen as something
it used to be.

Many days passed,
and still
many people ignore the precious book
that once held the fluttering minds of our young selves.

No longer considered a book,
neither a legend.
But considered something that was just a small entertainment
for us to break free.

And simply
to fulfil curiosity,
a man picks it up and stares.

A mangled book now held on the arms.
Slow hands cleaning away the dark clouds.
The book has still kept its beauty,
and as it opens its tattered papers,
vividly described images engulf the man
into a state of warmth.

The man has obtained his missing childhood book
and that book
is no longer a small entertainment
but a legend brought back into the present.

The Legacy Of Ones Own Journey

There will be a time

on a late summer bed

when a kid will ask me

how I spent my years as a young girl.

I would freeze my two mother-like hands

then maybe give a few chuckle

here and there.

Laugh about a few raindrops I've touched.

Frown about the antique dolls and them

highschool accolades 

still hanging around my spring collections.

Oh, 

and maybe shed a few distant cries 

as I sway myself 

back into my oblivious past

To where I used to flutter 

from my first friend,

to my middle school graduation,

to my first love,

to entering college,

and of course,

to the people whose relationship I've decided to keep.

Despite all this explanation

a mere kid would not understand

what miraculous journey I have created with my own set of 

given and earned privileges.

Or so I presumed

When this kid grows to be a man

He will understand the miraculous journey

I have told him many years ago.

He, too, will make one himself.

Commentary of "The Very Old Man With Enormous Wings"

Gabriel Garcia Marquez's short story, "The Very Old Man With Enormous Wings", summarises how the married couple turn their back on the old angel and put the angel in the chicken coop for the others to see. By the end of the story, the ending makes the readers stir up the thought of being insolent to an angel for being different from the initial one. Marquez uses visual imagery and character analysis between the angel and the human spider to support how illusional figures are better off unseen.

Marquez applies visual imagery to support the destruction of illusional figures when interacted with in the human world. The story starts off by the couple finding "a very old man, lying face down on the mud, who, in spite of his tremendous effort could not get up" because of his enormous wings. This makes the reader imagine how the angel looks and from the description, the angel in the story is nowhere close to the initial angel. Another factor that changes the aspect of the angel is the comparison of an illusional angel's and the story angel's movement. While an illusional figure would have a graceful and elegant movement, the movement of the angel in the story was described as a "rag picker". The comparison between the angel in the story and the reader's interpretation of an angel proves how illusional figures should not interact with humans as it destroys the initial interpretation of illusional figures.

While the angel was stuck in the chicken coop, it encountered other humans that carried irrational behaviours that links back to the idea that illusional figures are better off unseen. Marquez decides to se character analogy between the angel and the spider to convey the destruction of illusional beings in the human world. In the story, the angel encounters a maiden spider, a "woman who has been changed into a spider for having disobeyed her parents". Keeping in mind that the spider was once a human, stirred up the emotions of empathy from the other humans. Unlike the spider, the angel was not once a human but rather a conceit figure without any "truth" of "fearful lesson" which in result was not able to stir up any kind of empathy from the humans even if the angel was the one living in such poor conditions; the chicken coop. Marquez analysis's the level of treatment between the angel and the spider by using "human truth" and "fearful lesson" which was "bound to defeat" the "haughty angel who is scarcely deigned to look at mortals". Picking out the different treatments, Marquez shows how the angel is no exception when it comes to stirring human empathy. Proven from one of the evidences, even if the angel is living in a much more poorer condition than the spider, the latter gains more authority from the humans as it talks about it's tragic incident. This proves that illusional figures should not get in contact with humans as it obliterates the initial interpretation of illusional figures and gets easily overlooked by the stirring emotions.

The story ends with the angel looking like "an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea". The angel is no longer in the human world turning the lives of the couple back to its original state. Although the angel left, the initial image of the angel has already been destroyed. The description of the polar angel and the initial angel and being disdained by human emotions by comparing two different variables with the spider and the angel has marked the end of illusional figures. Therefore, leaving illusional beings alone and letting humans presume anything illusional will help the reconstruction of illusional beings and help the human stay pure and loyal to them.

Its not too late

If I started crying behind you,
would you hear my quiet mumbles?

If I started walking away from you
would you have bothered to stop me?

When I had to cry,
I cried infront of my phone.

When I had to have comfort,
I stood inside the bathroom tolls.

When I needed someone to share my happiness with,
you were away.
Gaming inside the dark smoke-covered room.
Kissing a random girl
whom you met on the streets.

Where is your old self?
You used to notice me cry,
you used to grab me in the hand,
and embrace me until my tears died out.
You used to laugh along with me,
Making time for just the two of us to laugh and cry all day.

Is it because you found out Im different from the rest?
If you found out that
you were my cause of the indifference,
Would you have noticed the tears the slowly sled down?
Would you wipe it off like you used too?

Just a typical day

The little albums

drowned into the shelf of a thousand home

seeks its way out.

The pictures flare out,

unleashing the little flame

thats been dying to lit.

Pictures one by one,

each missing in action

lost inside a puddle of dark, sticky mud.

They hold something,

someone.

I see people standing in the frame.

Smiling, 

Smiling so widely.

Wide enough to swoon the swans to the dirtiest lake.

Wide enough to make a filthy old man turn into a beggar.

Wide enough to make people stop and stare,

and maybe admire for a second or two.

As a motherly hand reaches over and

grab each picture

it lets out a sigh.

Having framed the remains,

we watch as the motherly hand unfolds the final, flaring puzzles that return from its journey,

adding old colours back into her flavourless life.

Glassy Comfort

The softness of your tone,

the rashness of your actions,

the sadness that over flows within the white in your eyes.

Your comfort which comes ever so often

makes me feel like a tiny leaf

being reattached to a bond that

was never meant to be.

Your whispers smoothly conquers every angle of the dim room,

making me turn and twist to every side

feeling the sounds of your heart beat

but not physically there.

Run

I remember being told,
"Taking someone else's smile and placing it on you is the worst crime a person can make.".
Let's take a look at the world now:

Crimes, crimes everywhere.
Every corner,
every alley.
The lights become dim
as they sense emergency.
The police are to busy,
putting people in jail.
Those people,
I wonder
what crime did they do?

Every corner overflows with fear.
Every place we look,
theres always terror.
No rest from hate,
no innocence or peace.
Everything disappears in a black hole.
Those crimes,
we didn't do anything to stop them,
Just passing by, letting them be.
But look us at now
and see where we are.
Like a small dot far into the horizon,
our population is to be nothing but a single grain of sand.
Filled with nothing but distaste and no comfort in trust.


This is what the world has become.
Putting on a blind eye,
cast away,
turned down
when someone is in trouble.
This is what we've become.
Scared in the safety of ourselves.
Just enough courage to runaway ourselves
While just ahead
Another has died.

Death of the petal

The little petals,
gliding softly across the winter storm,
they bring a little dust into the bottle,
that tremors in fear.

The soft howling of the winter storm,
sands swishing and swooshing,
mixing everything from dusk to dawn.

From the little mix,
accidentally poured to a bottle of wine
they do not match.
Not at all.

But the wine swings,
spits venom into its ear,
then comes
a newly mixed wine.
That contains only
emptiness that will soon be the poison flowing into the stream.

Photographing the winds letter

On the peak of the mountain.

Holding the brush, I see you

trying to find a perfect balance for your hands to take.

And as the brush reaches the cold, slim paper,

the wind takes its toll and screeches to the right.

As the wind screams left to right,

the hollow brush follows

not wanting to let go of its ink.

It is writing something,

something that you could not understand 

but you never questioned and 

like the brush,

you let the wind lead you.

-

On the bottom of the mountain,

there,

I stand.

Holding a camera,

finding something to appease myself.

My job as a photographer,

merely surviving all the threats and sacrifices,

now reached the end of the road.

The road that is dark, and unfinished 

with debris layering on top of each other.

Now, a photo must be taken.

Looking around,

nothing comes into the squares of the camera lens.

Shaking and sighing in despair,

I guess 

no photo today,

no photo again.

However the wind takes my camera,

shaking viciously,

forcing my hands to move

to the direction of

where you stand.

-

*Click* *Click*

You lift your head to sense the noise coming from bellow.

You twist and turn,

no signs of delight,

just a serious look of being broken out of trance.

There is no more wind to guide you.

No more wind to shape the letters on the cold, slim paper.

No more wind to scream at the brush.

No more wind to change my direction for another scene.

-

I hand in my photo,

the last of my possession.

Everything I held on to

now gone

but this time

Im letting go of everything

proudly

Because the last thing that holds my name

would be you.

With letters swaying in a bunch

formed by the wind

saying,

"Today is your first opportunity, tomorrow is your last regrets." 

Final relapses

Staying up all night
Watching the camp fire trying to survive,
I see the little passion
it desires to live.

In a huge flame,
into a tiny pebble-like desires,
I watch myself
as it carries me to sleep.

And as if the fire was the fairy dust,
it follows me throughout.
Wondering for something that it has missed,
wishing to catch the remaining debris
of the forgotten dream
that casted on fire.

The path goes and goes,
in circles,
from outside
to inside.
Outlining the layers of my
eyes
now drifting its sight
towards the flame.

From the flames
back to the fire,
the remaining woods
that fuel the fire
burns down
as it reflects its final form
into my eyes.

Too much of one thing

I've touched many hands,

seen many faces,

smelled
 many scents.

But the only one I remember best,

is the hands that we held,

just me and you.
The two imperfect hands from scratch,
to one perfect hand by passion.

Those faces I saw,

those faces I touched.

The only face that scares me to sleep,

is the little face you pull towards me

in the most devilish ways.

A lot of scents,

I cannot distinguish.

Not even your scent enters the blood flow of the hearing.

Those scents you put on,

the scents you provoke with,

I cannot distinguish 

that one scent that brings me
to where you are.

Fly and the leaf

I sit and wonder,
looking ahead that the orange peel of the sun.
"what on earth are you doing?"
the little fly said to me
as it flew past the golden web.

Nothing to be exact, just nothing indeed.
Just a little fact that you past the golden web.
No one indeed, no one exact.
How in the world have you gone threw that shimmering poison?

No words, no words needed.
Just a little wish and a wand would do the trick.
Those little words that you say,
"stop being a thinking and start doing things!"

Now lets turn that around,
now you sit and wonder,
"what on earth are you doing?"
the little falling leaf has spoken to the ground.

Nothing to be exact, nothing indeed.
Just a little weird that you can talk to the ground.
No one indeed, just something for sure,
How in the world would you do that without me?

No words, no actions.
Just a little saying,
A fly can do much more.

Foreign words

Its been days since we broke up.
Its been months since the last drop of tears I shed.
Its been a long time since I held myself together.

The words that you spoke to me that day.
Those foreign words that you said to me.
The night of the rainy eyes,
you left me there.

With those foreign words,
you looked at me in the eyes.
No hatred, no anger.
Just sympathy.

Having no one,
caring for no one,
losing someone,
having your life being played around with,
none of those has ever been the norm to my life.

Those little tiny bits.
That last tear drop that fell from your eye.
The last look you gave me.
That foreign words you said to me.
Those were the reason to why it rained
on the night of the rainy eyes.

Hidden spark between the rows

Life isnt what it seems,

so much nothing at all.

Nothing in comparison,

nothing in opposition.

All that seems, 

happens to have no face.

Whether fear conquers,

whether happiness conquers,

everything we hold,

every little tiny detail that we hold would

create a spark. 

A spark that disappears with the blast of shooting star.

The spark that leaves a small admonishing grin.

Life isnt what it seems,

so much nothing at all.

Nothing in comparison,

nothing in opposition.

and what is written right now is something

that is hidden inbetween the small rows of crooked teethes 

that will eventually be pulled out.

And for all I know,

Life takes all the sparks away and brings back an admonishing grin.

Two cups

Have a little cup of tea,
a little spoon full of guilt,
a little drop of sweat,
maybe a cup full of worries and regrets.

Drinking the cup you say to me,
nothings wrong,
nothing indeed.

But when night comes and owls come howling in,
the only sound you will make is a small whimper and a cry of despair.

The morning after dusk,
having a little tea.

Have a little cup of tea,
a little spoon full of luck,
a little drop of rains,
maybe a cup full of happiness and reunion.

The gassy isolation

That little scream,
inside the glassy cube.
The small girl wishing for some company.
A little whimper hear and there,
closed,
shut,
used....
the girl has nothing else to say

Lost time

Blankly staring ahead,

mist engulfing every part of me,

I sit and watch,

as I do nothing in favour.

The golden sounds of the ticking sounds,

the silver layer of the hands.

The only thing I could do is just sit and watch.

Listen to the clock ticking,

as it trickles down my spine.

The sound does not move for a second.

Soon

the mist that covers,

gets all the remains,

whats left of me is a ear or two.

Maybe an eye.

Carefully listening as the clock ticks the same pace 

as my eyes droop down

and the time bomb clicks.

lost track

When everyone has given up on you.
When you stop your track,
the society wont look back.

For a petite figure like you,
for a buff person like you,
no one will ever turn back.

Not once will they ask about you,
not once will they spare you a dime.

The only thing you have
is you, yourself and me.

When everyone has given up on you,
when you stop your tracks on top of the soccer field,
the society wont look back,
but i would.

For a petite figure like you,
for a buff person like you,
I will turn back
because you have more than just a  you, yourself and me.

Everything

Ill be the tissue that wipes away your hidden tears.
The tears that hold a thousand emotions from one person.

Ill be the balloon that brings you up.
The helium that carries your burden without gravity pulling you back down.

Ill be the 5 strings in the violin that matches your sweet melodic sound.
The sound that speaks for you when you lose your voice.

Ill be the badminton racket that hits you further up.
The power that helps you soar up higher.

Ill be the hoodie that covers your head.
The cover for your embarrassing moments where i  keep you away from the malicious colds.

Ill be the stars that guide you.
The brightness hinting you closer to the warmth as you engulf yourself in dark fogs.

Ill be the second to the final statement that concludes you.
The last point that helps finish who you are as you conclude your final moral.

My place

I stand here,

the place where I had my first steps,

the place where I had my first birthday party,

the place where I had my first kiss,

the place where I was left to be drenched in water,

the place where I said good bye to my parents.

The place where I dug my parents to the ground,

the place where I cried with someone special,

the place where my children ran around screaming for milk.

The place.

I lay here,

staring up at the bright sky,

as air flies up to the open tap.

Everyone around me,

looking at me with glistering water drops 

as I look around one more time at the place that used to be my everything.

An adult that turns into a child

I crawl down the empty stair case,

looking for something to get me out of boredom,

wishing to have a time I want right now;

an adult.

From picture frames to news stand.

From milk to cereal.

From picture books to novels.

From crushes to lovers.

From friends to enemies.

From mom and dad to grand pa and grand ma.

From I love you, mom and dad to I love you, Husband.

From childhood to adulthood.

Now,

I walk back up to the same empty stair case,

looking for something to bring me back

to the time I want to be in right now;

a child.

History's revenge

You forgot me,
so easily,
so fast.

You told me you would be there,
you told me I didn't have to worry.
Was that all a lie?

You told me I meant so much,
you told me nothing in the world could take you away from me.
Was that nothing but empty comfort?

You told me once
on the building top,
to never,
never cry because of someone.
Never cry because of someone who misused you.
To not give anymore time and effort to the one
who meant so much to you
but meant so little to him.

Im not crying, just a shattered glass poking my eyes.
You expect me to crumple so that you and your friends can laugh
but just to let you know:
I'm over you,
and this time its my turn to tell you
never cry because of your own silly mistakes,
never cry because of something you took away in your own will,
as history twists itself.

Ill be

Ill be the towel that
wipes away your sweat from the long training.

Ill be the dishwasher that
drys your tears goodbye when you dont know what to do.

Ill be the bandage that
covers you from head to toe when you got a scar full of exhaustion.

Ill be the friend,
your only friend, that
would be there when you need a shoulder to lean in.

Ill be the person,
the only person, that
will ever see you cry yourself to bed,
whimpering names and sounds that smothers like a fly.

Ill be your net that
catches all the fly's carrying sadness, depression and lust.

Ill be your hotdog bun that
fits perfectly with the meat so that when you fall
I will be there to hug you away from harm.

Ill be the other half that
you are searching for.

Ill be the stars in your eyes that
shine when you see the darkness.

I will be the wet air
to hear you safe and sound,
in the room of only me and you

Leafs owning the wind

Lets fly.
Lets fly like the wind.
No thoughts
no regrets.
Just follow the wind
make way to all of us.

Let the wind guide us,
from darkness to eternal shines.
Let the cold room be filled with
over heating passion.

But first,
let us glide like the wind,
let us fly
with no thoughts
with no regrets.
Let us be free one last time.

Last breath of lily

Dont write,

just look.

Don't listen,

just whisper.

Let me look into your eyes,

and listen to the ocean walls breaking.

Let me see you fall on the ground,

not in misery

but in joy.

Let me whisper into your ears 

telling you how much you mean to me.

Let me feel you as you lay on my bare shoulder

and listen to me say

'I love you'

over and over again.

Written all over your body,

that look of yours,

that sound you make when you wake up in the morning,

the soft whispers you land next to my neck tingles

as I see you hold your last breath.

Opposite's regret

We were never meant to be.
Our surrounding,
our personalities,
they never matched.

We never talked,
we never glanced at each other,
we never appreciated each others company.

However faith got us tied in a knot.
You,
you and your stuck-up personality.
me,
me and my quiet self.

How,
we were never meant to be.
But its better to accept it then give it a small tug.

You were always there,
ready for me to fall down.
Ready for me to fall over my untangled shoes.

I was always here,
afraid to come near you,
afraid to make a fool of myself.

But one day,
that all changed.

You're not the guy
that used to push me back down
after I got up.

You're not the guy
that used to smirk and give me the worst feelings.

And,
I'm the girl
who would cry herself to sleep
because of you.

I'm not the girl who's to shy to show herself,
not afraid of standing up for herself.

You never bothered me,
but your glances swallowed me up from time to time.
I never glanced at you,
but the feeling inside my heart
shatters knowing the fact
that you wont act the same way.

You wont be there
to push me down.
You wont be there to be the bully,
my bully.

7th grader's cliff hanger story

I was 16 when I got my first bicycle. My parents were concerned about me not being physically fit and decided to buy me a bicycle. It was an ordinary bicycle that everyone else had, at least that was what I thought, at first. My parents wanted me to test out the bicycle to see if I would gained any interest while strolling around the neighborhood. I came outside, grabbed the bicycle and hopped on the bicycle seat, and started pedaling. At first I didn’t want to go on a stroll nor try out the bicycle but after a minute or so, I was curious about how it would feel like if I was riding the bicycle at night.

The birds were flying and the sun was setting down. The street lamp flickered on as everything else was dying down. Pedalling to the nearest bus station took 15 minutes. I got out of the bicycle and rested my hands on the railing while staring at the stars that was shining brightly.

I decided to check the bicycle by strolling around the neighborhood but the problem was, I have never rode a bicycle before. But being a stubborn person I was, I didn’t think twice about being careful and rode on my bicycle. Every time I got on, I fell back down. The street lights which were hope to me started fading in the darkness making me lose hope and give in as well. Feeling down and displeased with the process I made, I tried to reassure myself that there is always tomorrow but that didn’t keep my motivation on learning, away. I stood back up, trying again for the last time, my legs were shaking uncontrollably as fear overtook me. With bruises and open cuts all around my legs, I went closer to the bicycle and put my feet on the paddle. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and started paddling, waiting for an impact that never came.

The flame dances on top of the hidden title

Its not the titles that come first.

I have myself,
keeping away bad things,
restricting myself.

Until you came along,
One,
Two,
Three.
You count the burning flames and tell me,
"you don't know me like the title knows it's words."

You disappeared,
gone from my vision,
you ran away,
restraining me once more.

Restraining me from the title you've got,
the title I know and cherish.

I may not know the real truth,
but I'm willing to accept it.
If you just allow me to count the burning flames together.
If you let me know you a bit more just like the words that fill the title.
If you give me the chance to grab, I already know you like the title knows its words.

Reborn

I love you,
Just like a guy loving his girl.

I treasure you,
just like a grownup man proposing to the love of his life.

You looked at me,
no guilt, no sorrow and said the same to me.

But like a bear leaving it's mother,
you left me.

You left me in the freezing cold,
you left me sweating in the jungle without a map of escape.
You just left me without a
good bye.

So now,
I decided to say it to you again.

I loved you,
just like the guy that loved his girl.

I treasured you,
just like the grown up man that thought of proposing to the love of his life.

I tell you this
with no guilt, no sorrow
but now it was you
who said the same to me with guilt and sorrow

Push and pull

We simply must say.
We really do,
our tall fair skin
gliding down the frosty layer
shimmering down the golden door.

Here I wait,
and wait I shall.
For I do not know until you come out.

I will wait and wait until our tall
fair skin can meet again.

But heres a question
I dare to ask,
What would you do
if i slammed the door in front of your face
when you meant no harm?

Sad? Devastated?
Ha! Sadly,
those weren't what I felt.

I simply forgot all our memories
Only leaving a bright light only in my vision.

Now it's your turn to guide me
like how I tried guiding you.

Faith of a pole and a watcher

"Hello there,
Whats your name?"
A figure infront speaks to a pole.
The pole stands still, not answering nor looking.

The figure leaves and comes back the next day,

"Hello there,
How are you?"
But the pole just stood there.

Days after days,
the figure kept on coming back
and the pole kept on being still.

Until one day,
the figure didn't come back.
The pole that once stood there,
stood there with a lonely slant to the left.

Days after days,
the pole waited with expectations,
hoping everyday the figure would return.

Everyday,
Diverse with cold and warm liquids inside,
the pole told itself
Never, never be the pole it was before
for the figure has melted what was supposed to be the still pole
into something that was swaying like the golden winds of the west.

The pole shivered at night
in lonely-ness and fear.
and
smiled a sad smile in the morning
in pain and regret.

But the pole never knew that the figure was there all along.
Behind the walls of an old building,
Looking, watching, thinking.
Far away from sight yet near by heart.
The figure felt lonely,
oh so lonely,
however the figure knew
he only had a few days till he can finally cross the road that suddenly disappeared.

The figure watched day and night,
watching the pole change, clutching his chest every time the poll slanted
45 degrees away from the ground.
Wanting to run to it and pull it back,
only being restricted by the barrier that was never there from the start.
what distance can do,
the power it holds.
The figure stares at the pole one last time before entering the new world
where he starts to make another road to his magnet,
the pole.

Bushes with glistering passion

Bushes keep you hidden

covering you from the light outside.

They don't do much,

they don't,

however,

a simple bush carry a lot more

meaning than a street light stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Second Chance

All I ever wanted was love,
All you ever wanted was money.

I first saw you
filled with sparkles and light.

You saw me
chained with golden strings.

What attracted you?
Was it me?
Was was it my golden strings?
Or simply,
because you knew I would fall for you
not caring what your true intentions were?

Did you decide to play with me?
Are you still playing with me?
If I can say,
for all I can say,
Im waiting for you.

Just like how the wind changes directions,
I will let you play with me once more.
Whether it was the golden strings or me that attracted you, I will let it go
and turn myself in just like a criminal facing his punishment.

Because it wasn't me that left you in the snowing steps of december, and in the ignorant winds of June.

Nostalgic

Waves push upon the shore bringing surprises

that no other can imagine

Coconut trees lean against the shallow part of the ocean,

trying to listen to the soft

unbearable

splashing noises

Waves overlap one another as if they were fighting for air as

Winds start distracting the leaves as if it were its prey

and next to it

the sun returns back to its home after its evening job

As if it was an emergency

people that has once flooded the area

fled to their homes,

spending the remaining time

sheltered under the moonlight

But one couple

just remains their

as if

they had all the time in the world

They walk side by side

for no one knows the reason why.

They look over

catching a glimpse of a shallow light

looking as if their history were filled with this area

But who knows

that will remain a mystery.

It's time

Trees fades into the loneliness of the world  

as the sun sets

ready to repose

for tomorrow's day

Leaves withered like a man who has lost in his fight

covering the tracks of the railroad

covering the path

of the home

of others

As greens of the leaves become shallow

darkness invades

as if

there is no such thing

as privacy

Everything disappears

the tree that swayed with the wind

the railroad that is filled with people during the morning rush

Trusting a cat to a youthful man

 If cats can claw,
I can move.

If you saw me,
hidden behind the broken branches
Clicking every step with careful doe-like eyes.

You're exposed under my eyes,
your every move and thoughts
predictable.

You're vulnerable,
I'm surprised.
Step by step you go
From trashes to gold,
from paper to glass.

You surprise me
yet again
your vulnerability never left you.

 Crowded with scarecrows,
filled with liquid
just
how well do you know yourself?

No matter how long I've moved with you
Like a cat following its prey,
you get me by surprise
like a mouse coming out of its hiding.


So how well do you know yourself like I do?
You dont know yourself like I know you.



Surprised again.

 You're always outside the fields.
Im always inside the library.

Your always looking at the ball.
I always stare at you move.

My time is running out
just like the speed of your falling sweat.

How you wipe your sweat with your arms,
with soft, caring movements.

Will you wipe my pain and tears away

or
Will you wipe my whole existence off like a little droplet of sweat that was nothing but a bother?

You play for hours and hours
smiling, tackling, shouting.
Will I ever see them again the same way?

I see myself smiling,
my time flying pass.
But looking at you,
time never came in my head
and I only manage to lose my hand to the window where you stand.

My hand,
your figure.
My time,
your smiles.
So different yet similar.
So near yet so far by heart.

I have never talked to you,
you have never seen me.
There was no such thing as luck
until
i saw you turn your head for the first time with curiosity
in the library window where my hand lay.

I only managed to chuckle a small laugh
that swallowed me up,
choking me in my down desire.

I see you turn back,
aiming for the last goal,
the last shot of my final wish.
So similar yet so different.
So near yet so far by heart.

Raining With No Rain

If I had a choice. A choice that can change everything from my past to future. Would I take that choice?
No. Although half of my life has been filled with regrets, I have not once thought about changing the events that have already happened. They made the present me. They made my friends. They made my education. I dont want to return them back for a different set. Im happy with what I have and no matter how many more regrets I will face in the future, the choice I make here is loud and clear; If you ask me if i ever want to change ANYTHING in my life, my answer to you is a "no". I already cried my heart and I already reopened my wound but I have friends and my family that are willing to heal them and most of all I have time to patiently wash away the dirt in my head. Unlike you, You push others behind you, ignoring them as if you are the only person in the world feeling pain. You only think for yourself and what nothing but pity. Take your pity because I dont need it, I have better things to do than worry about my past because I know that someday the past will be my future obstacles. If you understand what I'm trying to say, Ill see you in the future with more smiles and thoughts while you strangle to keep up with you past regrets. Dont bring me back, because what you are doing wont affect me but will only affect you.

The sky with no clouds

Sometimes I would sit down and wonder,
look across the glowing light.

I would think and think,
"If you were me,
would you change everything that you found unworthy?"

Sometimes I would stare right at you
and wonder why.
Why your face always differ from what you say.

Why am I just standing here
right in front of you,
trying to uncover the truth behind everything
as you hide behind your lies and reality?

Why should I stand here,
your words passing in and out,
starring right at you with glassy eyes that can
melt the burning fire yet
slowly kill myself inside?

Let me wish you one thing and one thing only.
Dont fool me with your act, dont fool me with you words.
Because I'll tell you once,
I already know what you've been thinking and I'm not afraid because
if you were me, I doubt you would change your mind.

Passion

What am I?
Am I just a rock
that was hard to pile?

What am I?
Am I a trampoline
that pushes you up when you've fallen down from the sky?

What am I?
Am I a soft cushion that embraces you from the darkness
while I suffer the sight of seeing you with someone else?

Tell me,
I want to know.
What am I to you?
A rock?
A trampoline?
A soft cushion?
Or
Am I just that someone
in your life that can melt like an ice cream
and not be bothered to be wiped off with a tender tissue?

Am I someone,
Am I that someone
Whose not worth another glance?

You gave me the ice cream
I questioned you
But
You only looked back at me
with a blank stare that only reflect
the melting ice cream.

Uncovering the other side

I've known you:
As a volcano knows the diverse hues of its lava;
As the Arctic misses its floating iceberg.

I've seen you before,
gliding down on each step like a leaf falling to its end
Like the golden token of peace, you shine
as bright as the moon that illuminates the path of a hungry tiger.

I've seen you before
walking down the road
Heads down
Hands on pockets
Trying to hide the exposures of your bare skin
Only managing to
Leave a small trace of regret and jealousy
and nothing more.

I want to see you,
your true self,
the real intentions,
let the icy glacier of smoke lift from you
and
let the light erase your fear.

Theres no turning back,
I am
where you belong.
So leave it be,
let the entire ice float out of the Arctic.
Let the lava sprout with its diverse colors from the volcano.

I've known you so clear
as the mirrors were reflecting me.

Have you ever placed your cup of coffee on top a a tissue. Looked outside the windshield and stare at people crossing by. To pick of your cup and look down only to find its layer printed to the tissue. Thats my life right now. Someone picked me back up to reality and it wasn't a good knock but a harsh one. They told me the truth of relations  (obviously I figured majority of it by myself.) and now I'm in the middle of looking back at my life to check for some mistakes. Well, first things first, I cant help but spot so much mistakes rather than correct actions. Why? Childish? Arrogant? Selfish?

Apparently, its a "yes" to all of them.  As shocking as it seems, we all have that aspect in our humane traits. We have the burning sensation to be a child in front of someone you want to be with. We keep our thoughts to ourself and ignore people and their words no matter how much they come knocking into your door and beg for you to change. We are selfish. Right there, selfish, we are selfish. Whatever we do we want more. Just because you let someone take half of your candy does not mean you are not selfish. Why? Simply because you have a hidden action towards this movement. You want people to know how generous you are. Sadly, some people misuse people like them and take control, which is NOT the best path anyone would want to take.

Im not saying Humans are bad. Im just saying Humans are being Humans. Humans all have that characteristics and the only thing that differs between all of us is how much we control or let out our emotions and motives.


So lets say this, if humans were to look back like the wet marking left on the tissue, we would find mistakes that we would want to fix, hide or forget. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a "reset" button in life, however there is always a "start anew" button. Don't dwell in those past mistakes and just accept the fact that it happened and continue on with your life because there will be a time where you will be able to fix it.

One last thing, the tissue with the wet marking got thrown into the trash. The person doesn't need it for it would only bother her.

Introduction to blog(?)

Have you ever crossed a road and stopped in the middle thinking, "Why am I here?". Well maybe thats a sign saying you should come here. Im not the brightest person however, I could tell you little bits of my life that may or may not help you cross the other half of the road.