no, father
October 28, 2008
you filled me with lies
pointing your finger
so you can cover your tracks.
said that was your way
to sheild me from pain…
but you failed to realize
hiding me from certain evil
would lead to demons
to crawl inside my head…
you want me to hurt you
so you’ll feel the pain?
no, father, rather not…
cause i know hurting you…
giving you physical pain
wont be suffice to
balance the trade…
i could have yelled at you
like what you’ve wanted,
but, no, father, rather not…
cause the voice of angst
wont be enough to cover
what i am bleeding inside…
i want to leave,
but you’re holding me down,
you thought we can
talk this over,
but father, i rather not.
cause any word ever written
would lack in conviction
for trying to define
the wound i have inside…
you must be thinking
how forgiving i am,
how about asking
yourself, father…
what would make you one…
tell me…
September 26, 2008
why must i cry?
you haven’t left us..
yet (?)
why am i hurt?
when i am aware of all the lies
and all the wasted trust?
you got me caught
in the middle of hating
and understanding,
yet the sun haven’t risen,
so how am i supposed to
start over?
when all that’s filling me
is darkness and fear and pain?
must have trusted and expected so much,
now, i am torn into pieces
and the only way of
starting to mend the broken pieces
is to leave outside your guidance
and start a day
knowing..
without expecting that
you’ll be around to clean up
everything I’ll be doing?
pain?
how can i tell you about all my pain,
when all you worry is
the success you’ll gain?
broken?
how can i be sure you’ll heal
when you are the very person
who placed me in this hell?
what happened to
being your sweetheart?
to being your gem?
what ever happened to
being the source of your
strength and the
reliever of your pain?
am i no longer part
of your now-perfect-world?
am i no longer the dawn
of your ever chilling world?
have you ever been worried
of knowing I’ll discover all the lies?
have you ever thought of
leaving our family behind?
can you expect me to
start again?
do you really see it coming,
I’ll be living a life..
without a father in it?
without a soul
August 30, 2008
damn this lips..
for asking too much..
curse this feeling
for wanting something
in return…
stop this nonsense…
take me back to
my self-made wonderland…
no one will bother to look
since everyone knows
i am no where to be found…
one by one..
piece by piece…
take out everything
that is making up
this heart
that never stops to bleed…
blind me…
bind me…
slowly, carefully
take this life..
so i can see,
then i would feel
the bittersweet journey
of living a life
without a soul..
just a body…
complying to this
infamous world…
my place…
August 4, 2008
world where nice people
are everywhere
but aren’t warm enough…
place where a man can lie
in exchange of an
old good f*ck…
world where women
fights back to escape
an staged life…
world that evolved
in an instant,
where a child is blindfolded
while being eaten
by people he trusted most…
world that allows truth
to be watered down
by politics and fame…
place that permits lies
and welcome sacrifice
as they welcome gain…
world where people
walks under your skin,
then put a dagger
to your heart,
cripple you
and leave you
with no place to begin…
place where they
put out the candle of your soul,
pull everything inside out,
until you are left
with a hollow and empty chamber
within…
then fill you head with
nothing but dark cloud…
i wonder…
how many people
can stumble around,
wounded, in pain
yet, still have the courage
to do it all over again…?
how..?
August 4, 2008
how come the safest haven
turns into
the most dangerous place
in a blink of an eye?
how can vultures
be able to walk
under the same sun,
oblivious to people’s pain
thinks: “time to play”
how come banal things
can twist your head
and cut you pieces?
why is it
the loveliest memories
have the sharpest teeth?
how come the simplest form
of taking refuge to words
open rivers of tears
and unsettling gaze,
though soul’s painted
you can still feel pain.
how can you be able
to explain the nightmare,
that doesn’t end as
you welcome the sun,
but whispering to you,
in that eerie voice,
that your screams and tears
are just the start.
how will i be able
to teach myself to get rid
of this fear,
when the other half of me
is speaking loudly:
“if you’re no longer scared,
what makes you different
from the dead?”