I’ve pulled out the monster beneath my bed,
Sit beside me, I said.
I look at him in the eye
I let him untangle the knots I carefully tied
My heart beats frantically with every tug of my strings
My fear is rising
I look away, I fight the urge to run
All my life, that’s all I’ve done
Now is not the time, not when his breath is in my ear
And his voice is all I hear,
Not when his eyes melt me into pools at his feet
I fight the urge to cry and to be weak
My hands tremble anyway
Was it a mistake?
Should I run now? Should I shout for help?


I don’t want to be the mother,
Of an unwanted daughter;
I never want to hurt her,
Or blame her for why I suffer.

I don’t want to sacrifice,
And ask her for the same price,
I don’t want to be remembered,
As the mother who dismembered,
her own child.

I don’t want to make her cry,
Not even a little sigh;
I don’t want her to be alone,
Like garbage, thrown.

I want her to find love,
Because I found none;
I want her to remember me,
Because I love her dearly.

If I can’t do all this and more
Then please God help me,
stop it all before,
I become the mother,
of an unwanted daughter.


Whenever my name escapes your lips, you make it sound so sweet
Like I’m the only one out there when there are millions with the same name everywhere
Your fingers brush my skin, you make it feel like I was struck by lightning
Electric currents rush through my veins, when all you did was brush hair off my face
And when I look at you my heart forgets to beat, you make it so hard to breathe
You voice is the sweetest melody in my ear as you shush my every fear
Every scar is forgotten and I am reborn again in heaven.

You make me smile in my sleep, even when you’re miles away from me
Every day, every moment, is a journey across the world to you
Every day, every moment, is a promise to you
That one day I can sleep right beside you
That one day I can make you happy the same way you do
Until that one day, we’ve both made it through.

For now, I watch as our love grows and blossoms; multiplies and doubles
I watch the world rotate on its axis, while our love remains timeless
I watch rain fall above our heads, and smile because we know it ends
I watch you from a distance and yet my heart lays right in your hands
In the meantime I’ll live without a heart while we are apart
But never for once think my love will ever be lost.

I might forget every now and then, about all the promises I made inside my head
Some days are hard with you gone, and there’s nothing to hang-on
I still believe in you and me, and that one day it all will be
We’ve gone so far, following the stars
One day we’ll walk the same path, as if we were never apart.

I Dare Say

To fear is to be smart,
To feel is to be foolish,
To climb a castle’s stony rampart,
I humbly admonish.

What is bravery,
If not reckless?
An act of sheer folly,
Dare I be so careless?

Would I dare climb only to fall?
Would I dare love only to hurt?
A mere sweet for a tussle,
And dirt on my skirt?

To dare is to die,
To think is to live,
Feel free to show a smile full of wry,
For logic is too elusive.


I love prompts!



I complained that time seemed to be moving so fast,
Another month has passed;
Time seemed to have been wasted,
Like a faucet left opened.

I struggle to recall what happened yesterday,
Or the days before yesterday,
I don’t even recall earlier today,
It all just seems so far away.

But today, time seemed to have stopped
And suddenly I hear every drop,
Of water wasted and lost,
While the two sticks were frozen inside the clock.

I much prefer it when I didn’t notice the time,
With its loud tick-tocks and chimes,
Let yet another day pass without another sound,
Or wake me up when my soul has been found.


I wanted to write yesterday, but my heart had other plans. Instead, I spent most of the day lost in space. Floating here and there, bouncing on the four walls of my room. I was desperate to get out of my trance. Reading almost always saves me. Books serve as floaters in the midst of a vast ocean. I close my eyes and get lost in a place other than where I am now.

My sadness is reflected in my writing, so I’ve been told. Honestly, I want nothing more but to write with hope weaved into my words. Instead I write about heartaches and the sadness that envelopes life. There is a poem I wrote, it’s called Pattern. In this poem, I wrote about an observation I’ve had ever since I was a child. Whenever I was truly happy, what would follow next was a deep sadness or lost. Since I was young, this has not changed for me. Which is why I tend to avoid being too happy and why I was cautious whenever I forgot to restrain myself.

I was deeply sad after writing this poem. I told my friend this. For a long time he didn’t reply. I was growing anxious for his reply –fearing that he would critique my poem as he was a writer as well. But 17 minutes later, he sent me this:

Reading the first line made my vision blur, and the second line brought me completely into tears.

Over and over,

Up and up more,

Summer’s sweet lover,

Breaks somber’s core.


Wilting will wither,

Live and let die,

Winter’s sweet sister,

Let’s waning inside.


Jumping and falling,

Walking and crawling—

The patter is life,

Cycled and sprawling.


Shared and ravenous,

Happy never consoles,

It’s a feeling inspiring,

Not taking its toll.


He not only changed my poem into a more optimistic poem full of hope, he also made me want to believe him. Or perhaps I really did. I was completely speechless. I just reread the poem over and over again, until I stopped crying.

Life is a pattern of ups and downs. While I’m up, I anticipate the down. I tried in vain to walk an even path, where I’m not too happy nor am I too sad. I found this rather easy, for there was really no reason to be completely happy. Although, there was always a reason to be content.

I used to be an optimistic girl. I found the bright side in every dark room. I looked forward to a future full of possibilities. But one day, I found myself enjoying the darkness. Walking in the dark, made my eyes adjust. I followed the trail everyone else has gone.

I want to hope again. I want to think of tomorrow and how I can change it. I want to be carefree and enjoy the ups of life and never mind the downs because I’m enjoying the ups so much. I want to ignore the pattern one day. I don’t want to be afraid of being sad and alone. I want to learn to love being in my own company. I want to meet myself and fall in love.


Fragile Figurine

Society dictates what is right and what is wrong. We have certain principles. Rules. Laws –the way everything should go.

Few have dared to break the rules, few have dared to be different, and few have had the courage to break away from the norm.

It is a relentless pursuit of escape, not from reality and society, but from ourselves. We built prisons for ourselves, and kept ourselves locked inside them. We’ve confined ourselves with everyone’s expectations of us. We are too afraid and too unwilling to correct other people’s imaginings.

People have a massive imagination. To the point where they’ve imagined other people as something perfect, to the point where they’ve created an illusion of a perfect fragile porcelain figurine. And there starts the expectations, there start the perfection. There starts the imprisonment, the confinement. There starts the end.

And you let them. You let them imagine you as someone you’re not. You let them dictate what you should and should not be. You let them push you to heights you could never have reached. But in the end, you have reached their expectations. You have been exactly what they want you to be. You’ve become a figment of their imagination. You’ve become the fragile figurine everyone admires, an art piece made by the imagination of other people. Not yours. Theirs. Not you. Them.

You are no longer you. There is no you. There is only what they’ve created. There are only expectations. Imaginations. Perfection.

How long have you existed? How long since you’ve been made to the beautiful masterpiece you are now? How long since you’ve lost your voice? Your strength? Your will? How long have you been their fragile figurine?

How long have you stopped living? You’ve made decisions for the better, for their betterment. Not yours. Theirs. Not you. Them.

When will you learn that you can hold the brush and paint your own masterpiece? When will you learn that you’re an artist? When will you learn that you’re not a mere sculpture –a mere dummy, mere clay anyone can turn into pots?

You are more than that. And you know it. But, it’s just so hard to be something you shouldn’t be. Isn’t it? You’ve been the fragile figurine everyone has always admired. If you become otherwise, everyone will hate you. Everyone won’t like you anymore. You’ll be thrown away. Exiled, cast aside. Left, abandoned. But see, what they really liked wasn’t you.

Everything will come with a price to pay –a trade, a bargain. There’s always something in exchange. Will it be worth it to be hated in exchange for living your own life? Will it be worth being abandoned if you were free?

Yes. Break free from your chains. Break free from your prison. From the cell you yourself built. Break free. Who says you can’t? Who says you won’t? Who says it’s wrong? Who says it’s right? Who says you shouldn’t? We all have to rebel at some point. We all have to break the walls. Break the fragile figurine everyone wants and imagines us to be.

You’re not fragile. You’re not dainty. You’re strong. You are yours. Not theirs. It’s you. Not them. Shatter their sculptures. Break their imaginations.

You. Are. Not. Theirs.


Again another composition from my early years of writing. When I discovered writing as my escape, I poured out all my emotions and my thoughts on paper. I bled it all out until there was no more. I wrote until the storm calmed. So if you notice, there’s a lot of angst –something I wasn’t really used to but reading this again made me shiver in fright. I forgot that I was capable of so much anger. Or that I was capable of holding it in for so long.

It’s amazing how much time can change us. I barely recognize this girl who wrote this. I feel so different. I wish I still had the same determination to keep fighting for myself. I wish I still had that yearning to live.