there were
of how
you broke,
long enough
for it to begin
to sting. 

i live casually,
a casualty.
no matter;
there was
a need for
this to be

of course.


( p.s. on a weirdly-timed vacation atm..hope to have more (non-poetry) posts soon! ^^’ )



merry go round.
there are places to be
and the night drags on
till we are much too tired
for being anyplace but here
and now, listen to the hum of

this ride remain, ever-long.
for there are places to be
and perhaps, 

no dawn.



what is it about moments lost.
sought our own demise but
we are riders of the league of
hopers. no more can be said
of the lost in their shells,
thinking they are riding to battle
but moments ago we too were
a league of the demised.

You sigh as the clocks tick by.



prompt: “by the light of the moon” 

by the light of the moon
who is to say you are not as bright as it?
who is to know you as you; moored
by the echoes of his or her or their
by the light of the moon
you come and go.
but who is to bear your



Here, There?

here, there; where are you now? 

All was lost when you would not be found

We are the outcomes of those hopeful tales

Hope was lost when you could not be around.

here, there; where will I go now? 


(p.s. school assessments = infrequent blogging :'( )


this is what we have come to;
present but wanting to
what has been long gone.
we are wishers of lost things
and every day is our way

to lose more, so to
go on, wanting.


Hold On.

Maybe bravery isn’t even bravery,
it’s these foolish thoughts meant to stray you
from the path of a “satisfying” (uneventful) life.

And suddenly you’re off your feet and
the ground seems to be shrinking.


Perhaps flying isn’t really flying,
but worries being set free.

“The sky is grander than it seems from the ground.”
It’s expanding but it’s also somehow only just around you?

Oh, how your eyes widen and the awe becomes these gusts, determined not to disappoint.

You’re spinning,
the world’s a blur
then it erupts into laughter.

“or no wait..”
maybe it’s just you starting to notice?
Self-deprived of reasons to be happy.
you’ve forgotten;

reasons aren’t reasons,
they’re excuses,

meant direly
to be,

if we encouraged compassion/joy/positivity as much as we romanticise serious mental illnesses to seem almost desirably poetic, maybe we’d be able to spread the much-needed positive vibes in our lives.


As Them?

stubborn lungs,
inflate and let go.
And while I have
let myself,
inflate of

h o p e s
d r e a m s,

does not letting go,
make me just
as stubborn
as them?