Dear Ghost: 3

Dear ghost,

I apologize.
Because up until now,
I still hate you.
I still blame you for this  fear.
I still see myself unworthy of anyone’s attention & affection–
All because of you.
I still remember the vague memories;
The scattered pieces of my broken past.
I still picture myself giving it a try,
Yet I ended up scarred,
Couldn’t even cry.
When will you stop haunting me?
When will this fear subside?
‘Cause I’ve been walking back & forth–
One step forward,
And twice back.
I didn’t even love you,
Didn’t even last for a while.
But still you tattooed fear & pain on my heart.
One day, if you’d get to read this,
I’d like you  to know,
That I might be okay again,
But I won’t be fine anymore.



3Rs and the Stars: Part 1


She’s thinking about the stars.
What’s wrong with their fates
That she can’t even draw
A  single constellation?

Why do they hide behind the clouds,
When she badly wants
To see them wink at her?

Is she that bad that she has never been granted a wish
When a shooting star falls?

She keeps wondering,
But nothing comes to mind.
No one’s answering her queries,
No one’s bothering to try.

So with a deep sigh,  she decided–
“I must seek the answers on my own,
Who cares if I’d get it wrong?”

To you, my dear…

I’m in pain.
Because, in a way, I brought you the pain you are feeling right now.
And the thought of causing those tears haunts me.
It makes me regret not keeping my mouth shut.
I should’ve not told you,
Even if it would mean keeping it from you.
Because dear, it hurts me that I can’t do anything to ease that pain,
Or even make you feel better.
For in the first place,
I don’t think I can handle that kind of pain myself.

Author’s Note

When I write,
I write what I feel.
I write what I think.
I write what I imagine.

When I write,
I make a whole new personality.
I create a whole new world.
I turn bad things to good,
And good things to bad.
I end it whatever way I want,
Either happy or sad.

When I write,
I think of all the possible ways to  escape reality.
To just stay in my own bubble,
Until all my fantasies come to life.

When I write,
I think of all the painful and blithesome days.
I write without thinking about rules.

There are no restrictions.
I just write from my heart and soul.

My Painful Demise


My head’s throbbing,
my heart’s racing.

The pain starts slowly,
Assaulting every piece of me.

The aching stops suddenly,
And for a moment I was free.

Yet it starts again,
Quickly–as unimaginable as it can..

And the pain comes repeatedly.
And I die.
Every fucking beat of my pulse kills me.