I can't be who you
are, but it doesn't mean that
I can't try to be
Why be afraid of
his tiny fire when you are
the entire ocean?
She realized that she was just another brown, speckled bird
In a sky that was already overwhelmingly full of little sparrows.
I don’t want to live through a thousand lives
Written by hundreds of other people.
If I can be the writer of just one good story
I will have lived thoroughly and therefore, be satisfied.
Writing used to be my escape
A tonic to heal me when I felt faint
Now I realise that it was a trick of fate
To catch me blinded in my head-strong trait
Deceived to think that it would be an open gate
Only to realize that I’ve rushed in− I’ve taken the bait
That’s why now, my very soul is the one that I most hate
On my knees
Bones bout to break
Time fading away
It’s hopeless, useless
No reason to keep
On living if this is
The only way
But then you come
You were there for me
Before anyone knew my beginning
You carried me
Nursed me to strength
Clothed and fed me
When I had nothing to give
You gave me reasons and purposes
To continue to live
Thank you Haha,
For giving me everything
And expecting nothing
Why can’t I move forward?
Can I never let go of you?
You are still a constant
On the tangents of my thoughts.
But why do you linger on?
Is it because of that indecision
So many years ago
That continues to haunt me
Those unresolved feelings
And emotions have come to rot
And decay in the empty wasteland
Of my bitter heart?
Or is it because that
I nursed those wistful feelings
For so many years and
When the chance came to
Reveal all those harbored secrets
I only discover that you’ve
Become someone that I don’t know?
Who are you now?
Where have your feet taken you?
Who are you anymore?
Are you really you?