Au Revoir

I wandered in the shore,

waiting for the sun to set,

Avocets chirping, cold breeze blowing

giving courage, tranquility— life.

 

The ocean looked calm,

as calm as the clouds in the sky,

waves’ sweet melody, so harmonious, so smooth.

I can hear it, and sense it.

 

As I continued walking,

miles from where I came from,

footsteps in the sand, gently fading,

sun’s vanishing, no pause, no break.

 

Darkness gradually surrounded the place,

until I could no longer see light,

the light that used to gleam at times I needed.

I suddenly heard this sweet melody.

 

But that melody eventually faded.

Days had passed; I was still stuck in here,

constantly hoping for the bright light to appear,

Perhaps, it will never show up once more.

 

Things will never be the same again

I moved slowly to reach the seawater,

and decided to drown myself,

this time, I heard nothing else but silence.

 

Silence that I was longing for years.

I’m tired

I’m tired.

I’m tired of recalling those nights when I heard shouts from my parents’ room at 3am.

I’m tired of knowing that Mom and Dad’s priority was not us. I’m tired of seeing them with their new families.

I’m tired of looking at my nephew’s sad eyes, longing for attention and for real happiness and for real love from his parents. If only I could not leave him, play with him all day and go with him wherever he wants, I will.

I’m tired of waiting for my family to come back in the church, it feels like waiting for a fish to drown in the sea.

I’m tired of doing my best for others and they didn’t even recognize it.

I’m tired of committing mistakes, and of becoming a mistake.

I’m tired of staying awake until 4am, staring at the ceiling, felt so empty; and of waking up early morning, carrying bags of rocks─ so heavy.

How I wish I could just close my eyes in a fine night, rest in harmony ’til all my struggles fade away, with me.

I’m tired of sharing my thoughts to anybody and of hearing voices.

I’m tired of watching people who got tired of me, tired of helping me to take away all the tragedies chained and locked in my body.

I’m tired of being treated like a rubbish. Once they get what they want, they will eventually leave.

I’m tired of being helpless and judged easily by other people.

I’m tired of seeing complete and happy families, eating dinner together, traveling together.

I’m tired of feeling sad and of being a burden.

I’m tired of pushing myself to smile, pretending like nothing’s going to wreck my inner self, even if the monster inside me tries to eat all my happy thoughts.

I’m tired of having friends, I no longer want to bother them.

I’m tired of being tired physically, emotionally and mentally.

I’m tired of breathing and of being alive.

I’m tired of shedding all my tears at times when I’m alone.

I’m tired of seeking help, I’m tired of being me─ of everything.

Maybe this is the right time, because,

I’m tired.

 

Drowned In The Sea of Grief

I desired to be as free as the clouds above,

drift as the wind blows.

shed tears whenever and wherever I want,

and vanish as darkness eats the world.

As I opened eyes in the morning,

the light tries to surprise me.

Giving hope when I needed not hope,

lending a hand when I need not help.

It’s too difficult to be alive when

everything around you was dead,

like carrying bags of frustrations,

holding on a rod of broken glasses.

I have been down in the dumps,

could not even remember happy memories.

I began to love staying awake on midnight,

where I heard nothing but calmness.

Night’s cold, the world’s dying with me,

the sound of silence gave me relief and freedom.

How satisfying it was to be alone,

and to make marks in my arms.

Nothing will change, nothing can mend this,

the spirit that I used to strengthen was broken.

It  feels like swimming in a sea of catastrophe,

and drowned in a sea of grief.

Send help

I arrived in the place

and quickly went down the plane,

Finally, I had a chance to visit my dream destination!

I was drained, so I checked in the nearest guesthouse

and napped for almost an hour.

I woke up and noticed changes,

everything was different,

including my room, my bed.

I was prisoned somewhere in New York,

unable to move freely,

to talk around with different people,

to observe how beautiful

and high the buildings are, day and night;

to walk along the city and meet new faces.

All I perceived was darkness,

nothing else but darkness.

In other rooms, I heard loud voices,

craving for care, and security

screaming for help, and love, and joyfulness.

Trying to find answers to escape,

seeking justice, and freedom.

And just like me, they didn’t know

why they were there.

Send help.

 

Living; Dying

How heart-breaking it is,

when people walk away,

got exhausted of the things you’ve said

over, and over again.

They’ve constructed blockades,

and refrain dealing with you.

Perhaps, that would typical human-beings do,

when they get along with

pessimistsparanoids,

depressed.

“Friend” they called you once,

you made them laugh

at times they wanted it,

you removed all their loads.

You gave them words,

to uplift their wrecked spirits.

One Friday night,

you looked-for them, seeking help;

but they’re unreachable.

Invisible,

unable to see them, and feel them, either.

It hurts

so much,

like terrorists implanted bombs in your body,

after a minute, it eventually burst, so painful.

Similar emotion when you were a 5-year old kid,

enjoyed frolicking everywhere with peers,

jumping and running around,

you unexpectedly fell in a rough ground.

It feels like living,

and dying at the same time.

Complicated.

Confusing.

Sad.

Soon, he’ll fade away

“He’s not in our world”, you said.

 

I.

It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon,

when you last saw him displaying his perky smile;

throwing nonsense punch lines and witticism,

which gave you positivity and pleasure.

And since that time, everybody thought he’ll act the same on the succeeding days.

As day had passed, you’ve seen him, loosing liveliness.

He’s so quiet, not talking to anybody;

like no one surrounds him, no one’s with him.

He wasn’t even looking into other people’s eyes.

You heard no whispers;

even his breathe.

 

II.

It’s unusual, and weird at the same time.

You looked at him,

trying to find hints as to what really happened.

You thought, the answer was in his eyes,

nothing was there but emptiness.

It took you exactly ten steps to reach him.

You asked him why.

Still, you didn’t figure out.

He actually became the winner of his own game,

I mean, he made others believe he’s well, he’s okay, he’s fine;

although he’s not.

 

III.

He used to be happy every day,

pretending as if  nothing’s wrong,

nothing’s bothering his mind,

nothing’s falling apart and

nothing’s stealing the delight he used to feel.

No one cared.

Even his sister, who always pick wrong choices, wrong decisions and follows wrong direction;

even his mom, who’s so obsessed with her new-asshole-pretentious-dick-head-husband─ a nightmare!

Even his aunts, who blamed him for being so ambitious, a thief, liar;

even his dad, who started all the pain and;

even his desires,  the people whom he expected would help him, and even his own self.

Anyway, it’s not their fault.

Who would even dare to join with his complicated and messy life?

 

IV.

Behind those smiles,

are millions of fears,

sadness, and weaknesses,

destroying all his thoughts like bombs.

Behind his loud voice,

are dark clouds, seemed to burst lightning, heavy rains and  thunderstorms.

No rainbows, no bliss at all.

 

V.

And just like the clouds,

That man,

Soon, will fade away

Writer’s Letter to His Ownself

You’re not a wrong choice,

you’re tough.

You’re somebody’s 11:11 wish,

and someone’s favorite song.

You’re a human who commit errors,

and exceeds disaster.

You have friends,

and you’re a friend.

Be calm,

be optimistic,

and be happy

cause that’s the key.

Start achieving your visions,

instead of pondering those tragedies.

Shape a strong foundation of your

courage, and faith.

Do not let your wrong choices,

bring you into life’s deepest catastrophe,

and melancholy.

Everybody’s struggling,

and everybody feels pain;

you’re not alone.

That was not me..

I am not me,

when I start to think of

miserable stuffs.

I am not me,

when I’m home.

I am not me,

when I  laugh exaggeratedly like

Madame Watson’s 6am car horn.

I am not me,

when I gaze at an open-window

for 7 200 seconds,

like a 100 year-old Grandpa;

who’s humbly waiting for his death.

I am me,

when I’m alone;

like a jar full of disasters,

asking for relief.

I am me,

who make bad decisions and

wrong choices.

I am a broken-window,

in our neighbor’s old house.

I am a garbage,

full of wastes,

junks

and scraps.

I am me,

who seeks attention;

like a toddler,

playing tambourines.

I am a 4am thought,

who longed for  kindred spirits.

Last Monday night, you asked me:

Are you alright?

I’m fine.

I answered with bliss but

that was not me.