Hold them back;
You don't deserve the luxury of shedding those tears.
...
Child called 'failure', walking with your head hung low. Your ripped gray-white shoes shuffle across the rough floor like invisible chains are dragging you back- every step a struggle. You are nothing but a sorry sight, but the world holds no compassion for you.
Everytime the soles of your shoes makes contact with the solid, unforgiving ground, the dull ache hammering away at your legs become more apparent. You want it to stop, child called 'failure', but you don't; you know you deserve it for letting everyone down.
Already dubbed a 'failure' but you still add the title of 'liar' to your name. Stupid. It was easy: breaking a promise to a dead person. And so every promise you make, you break. Failure, you feel like Atlas with guilt the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you plough on.
You wear a smile, when you're not alright. You enjoy the pain, thinking it rightful for what you dealt. You keep your mouth clamped, locked up and shut when all you want to do was cry. Cry for help and never, ever stop until your gone.
Gone.
...
But hold back the saltine drops threatening to fall from poignant brown eyes.
Hold them back;
You don't deserve the luxury of shedding those tears.
...
Let your heart break instead.
It's time to give up.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
+iPod Shuffle+
That girl.
On the bus.
Watch her.
She's standing with one hand wrapped around a support pole, the other in her pocket. Her bright green shirt blaring the word 'Jeep'. She's lost in a sea of people; you would never have noticed her unless you were seated across her. She has a couple of friends flocked nearby, chatting each other up or minding their own business. Nobody minded her, though.
Every few seconds, she'd look up at the glass pane, shrug or smile, then continue staring at the floor. Her feet donned grey men's sandals, a size too big for her. Across the green plains of her shirt, a white line cuts through. Left jeans pocket to both her ears, the link between her soul and music took the form of a set of plain white earphones.
Her lips formed a compound of consonants and vowels. Ballad after ballad she mouthed the words; words she never dared to utter. Words she will never get to say. Bottled up emotions slipping past wordlessly. She stood there, rocking up in her own world, without a care of the public thinking her mad. Head nodding to the different paces of tempo, foot tapping in sync with the blast of bass in her head phones. Once or twice she shifted her position on the bus so as to not fall over in the jerky vehicle; the only indication she was still tied this reality.
Love songs left bitter smiles on her face.
Upbeat songs had her grinning like no other.
Slow songs had her feeling the magnitude of every word.
But all songs had her missing the past she left behind-
-the best part of her she left behind.
The mirage that no longer exists in the world she belonged to now.
A full thirty nine or so minutes on the bus with her iPod blasting her emotions via numerous songs. She's silently bursting at the seams; emotions exploding in all directions without a sound. People around her remain oblivious, like a line had come between these two dimensions- like the two worlds did not overlap. But they were linked by that girl.
Her past.
Her present.
Her future.
An endless web spun around the teenager: Choking her. Suffocating her. Threatening to overwhelm her.
The neighbourhood mall came into view, and with it, the fast approaching bus station: her destination. The girl slipped the phone out of her pocket.
Shoulders slumped, she hit the pause button and was sent crashing back into the bleak, grey world she was now a part of.
Getting off the bus into the cool night's air, she joked with friends. She laughed with them. Got tripped by the joker of the group. Raced one another...
... But all throughout,
Unlike those words, she hadn't kissed her past goodbye...
... Because she wasn't ready to move on.
On the bus.
Watch her.
She's standing with one hand wrapped around a support pole, the other in her pocket. Her bright green shirt blaring the word 'Jeep'. She's lost in a sea of people; you would never have noticed her unless you were seated across her. She has a couple of friends flocked nearby, chatting each other up or minding their own business. Nobody minded her, though.
Every few seconds, she'd look up at the glass pane, shrug or smile, then continue staring at the floor. Her feet donned grey men's sandals, a size too big for her. Across the green plains of her shirt, a white line cuts through. Left jeans pocket to both her ears, the link between her soul and music took the form of a set of plain white earphones.
Her lips formed a compound of consonants and vowels. Ballad after ballad she mouthed the words; words she never dared to utter. Words she will never get to say. Bottled up emotions slipping past wordlessly. She stood there, rocking up in her own world, without a care of the public thinking her mad. Head nodding to the different paces of tempo, foot tapping in sync with the blast of bass in her head phones. Once or twice she shifted her position on the bus so as to not fall over in the jerky vehicle; the only indication she was still tied this reality.
Love songs left bitter smiles on her face.
Upbeat songs had her grinning like no other.
Slow songs had her feeling the magnitude of every word.
But all songs had her missing the past she left behind-
“... namun, bukan mudah bagiku meninggalkan jejak hidupku yang terukir abadi sebagai kenangan yang terindah...”
-the best part of her she left behind.
The mirage that no longer exists in the world she belonged to now.
A full thirty nine or so minutes on the bus with her iPod blasting her emotions via numerous songs. She's silently bursting at the seams; emotions exploding in all directions without a sound. People around her remain oblivious, like a line had come between these two dimensions- like the two worlds did not overlap. But they were linked by that girl.
Her past.
Her present.
Her future.
An endless web spun around the teenager: Choking her. Suffocating her. Threatening to overwhelm her.
The neighbourhood mall came into view, and with it, the fast approaching bus station: her destination. The girl slipped the phone out of her pocket.
“... you're on my heart just like a tattoo...”
Shoulders slumped, she hit the pause button and was sent crashing back into the bleak, grey world she was now a part of.
Getting off the bus into the cool night's air, she joked with friends. She laughed with them. Got tripped by the joker of the group. Raced one another...
... But all throughout,
“... 每一次和妳分開 每一次Kiss You Goodbye
愛情的滋味此刻我終於最明白...”
愛情的滋味此刻我終於最明白...”
Unlike those words, she hadn't kissed her past goodbye...
... Because she wasn't ready to move on.
.She wasn't ready to leave the best of her in the past.
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