Eyes as windows

He told me it’ll only hurt at first.
He told me it won’t take long.
He told me it’ll make things better.

Sure, at the beginning, it hurts.
Then it hurts more.
Then it hurts so much.
It hurts too much until it hurts no more.

We see people on the streets.
At home.
In school.
At work.
Everywhere in everyday.

Although these people we see are living,
Some of us are dead inside.
If you look through the windows of my body,
You’ll see the ruin in me.
Death lives within me.
He resides in my body.

Death took one look and one look only.
He saw I was falling apart.
He saw things crashing down within me.
He saw hope running low from me.
He saw where he could be.
He knew what I’m going through
And that’s when he decided where he’ll stay.

He offers me his company
For the times I was down and lonely.
Then finally he asked me to let him stay.
He told me it’ll only hurt at first.
He told me it won’t take long.
He told me it’ll make things better.
My body as his shelter
In exchange for my pain and sadness to go away.

Death wants to dominate this body,
So first, he touched the armor of my strength—it rots.
It made the pain unbearable for there is no strength to endure.
Second, he put out the flame of my kindness.
Death doesn’t like warmth, so he made everything cold.
Third, he flick off the switch of my emotions
For pain and sadness to be no more.
Lastly, he blew the little candle of hope in me.
Death likes darkness so he puts out anything that glows.

I know I’ve decided this.
I know this is my own doing.
I’ve turned myself into something so pitiful.
I gave up on myself and let others take authority.
I thought this is better
Not feeling anything at all
I thought this is cooler
Not caring about a single soul
I forgot that I have my own soul too
Now, look into my eyes, I scream for help.



There I sat
—with them, by my side.
Both exchanged words,
the other talked to another.
I speak only to be ignored.

There I stood,
With my whole being.
Their eyes not seeing mine.
Their senses dulled my presence.
I exist only to be forgotten.

There I walked
—on the lonely road.
My heart lightened up.
For there, I —the phantom
I become— belong.


they say a picture speaks a thousand words
but i wonder why yours only whisper one.
you say you would cross an ocean to find me
but the sea between us is actually none.

i would write our story in a book
but you won’t read it even out of curiosity.
you would cook all your favorite dishes
but i know those aren’t meant for me.

i’ve always believed that there’s forever
as long as you and me exist.
but it turns out it’s a one-sided belief
one i unconsciously persist.

i guess your extremities were just mere words
meant to untangle hearts from webs of isolation
and your love just a figure of speech
just a replica of your true intention.

Lock them in Writing

Insanity tries to conquer my brain.
Now sanity is overpowered.
My sanity plans to leave me;
So I write down mad, demented,
cuckoo things.
I jot down the lunatic things
my brain thought of trying.
I caged them in repeated sentences
As if the times of  repetition
becomes the strength of the charm.
I imprisoned them in words.
I confine them in scribbles.
I locked them in writing to keep me sane.
But sometimes, I missed some bits.
They’d tie my sanity somewhere.
They want to take over.
I’d almost fall for them.
I’d almost do what they whisper.
But with the pen and paper,
I can suppress them,
And once again, I’d recover.

Point of Views

I don’t want to look at him because it pains me to know that his eyes were never meant to see me. His words were never constructed for me. His heart, never would it skip a beat for me. His mind was never to wander to me. His hands were never to held mine.

I don’t want to look at her because it hurts to know that her eyes were never for me to gaze into. Her words were never for me to hear. Her heart, never would I make it flutter. Her thoughts were never for me to conquer. Her hands were never for me to hold.

In the dark

It was 2AM. She just got her heart broken; had her eyes leaking; had her body shaking. She can’t stop the hiccups she’s producing. Her refusal to accept the truth has made her unable to take hold of the situation. She denies her bad habits and attitude, putting all the blame to him, then in a while, takes them all back and blames it all to herself. Her pillow is wet. Everything was cold. She grew tired but she can’t control her sobs. Her mind was bombarded with questions and answers which only generate more questions.
In the dark, she sulks.
In the dark, she fades.
And in that moment, in the dark, she belongs.



I’m sorry I let you down.
I’m sorry I screw things up.
I’m sorry I’m never good enough.
I’m sorry for being a pain.
I’m sorry for being good-for-nothing.
I’m sorry for being loud.
I’m sorry for being irresponsible.
I’m sorry my best can’t satisfy you.
I’m sorry for not being how I should be.
I’m sorry for being wrong.
I’m sorry.
Forgive me for the things I can’t do.
Pardon me for the things I have done,
that shouldn’t be
I’m sorry for being me.