I Give Up on You.


It’s 5:32 am of the next day. I haven’t slept yet, so the morning is not for me.

Outside my window I see freedom everywhere, inside I’m trapped in me.

My tears that I’d once believed had dried, quelled up once again–

As looking through my old texts, I see bits of the person I used to be…


Naively falling, placing wagers on the wrong people, whom to trust and stuff…

Was I so gullible that I mistook my infatuation for immortal love?

I don’t know how I believed there was something redeemable in him,

But whatever the impression was, I’m still paying heavily for it.


I can say I liked a hundred million things about him, I know, I do,

I will also tell, he doesn’t and never will like a single thing about me.

Well it narrows it down, it was my mistake, I was naive and stuff,

But it won’t be true, since I myself would think it as a bluff.


I know my reasons, that they are sincere enough to make him see a fool.

Never will he see me as I want him to, and never will I give up on him.

So, when will it be when I would realize I actually need help?

When will the time come, I will be free from my unrequited love…


To see the world as his eyes do, to gain the equivalent amount of coldness,

For me to slander a friend, like he does to me and my emotions, Oh tell me!

He is a human, pretty and ugly. I wasn’t yet a human, but soon, I will be.

No fire, no storm, no longer human, I’d be. Like him. I pray, oh, tell me!


The Winds of Difference


Little houses, two, three stories, some tall,
Unsymmetrical blocks,
Leaking out light through little bullet holes.
Glowing with dark sinister light from selfish motives,
For a wayfarer to stumble and bleed.
The wind rustles, making a branch knock out,
Their spirits at midnight, during public blackouts…

One big hut, in the middle of winds and sands,
Water, borne from that dry well miles away,
Lies abundantly in a little pot infront.
The vast mud porch stands starkly illuminated,
In the haunting night, by a dirty little earthen lamp.
A wanderer lost in the desert finds a world in it.
Though alien in tongue, and money,
Dirty the oil lamp, but the effort never goes amiss.
Judging by the shadows, thrown on the old, painted wall,
A friendship weaves in a new bond,
And the light of the lamp resurrects a dead emotion.
Reminding and warming.
Symmetry lies in the human heart.