Abducted


And suddenly, I was lost in the moment.

Don’t know where to be find.

Darkness came.

It was the time of depression that swallowed me.

Betrayed, estimated, bloodsucked, and fooled,

Things matched with my name.

Then I felt something so wrong.

It was my downfall.

I lost everything, I lost myself.

They were gone, unexpectedly.

I was gone.

There’s no way out. No way.

I was almost dying.

No one has to save me. No one.

I was almost not cured.

I kneeled for no good reason. No good reason.

And…

I pretended that I can. And maybe I really could.

Unknowingly…

I was also back. With twisted boom and vengeance.


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Self-criticism of a Writer


You write, And nothing’s special.

Look at yourself, You think you’re good? Who told you that you are? You’re not potent. Yes, you aren’t. You’re only dramatic. You’re just full of execration. You’re so talentless. You’re not enough. People will never choose you.

Never.

I pity you. You share nothing. What you do aren’t impressive. Apparently not. You’re just a trash. Your pieces just deserves to be rumpled. You’re words are redundant and irrelevant, extraneous and impertinent . They won’t see anything in you. And they will never choose you.

Never.

You’re just a quite and big dismay. You’re only nothing.

So stop making things you can’t really do. Hypocrite.


Power of Music


It sings for my ears. But it talks to my heart. It shakes me by my fears. And shoots me like board of a dart.

It brings back all the memories. And wakes me up of things I can’t find. It’s not my happiness. Why I feel like I’m blind?

But I don’t want to stop this melancholy. Even though I am so trap. I’d rather burst totally. Instead of fooling myself by bluff.

Lyrics is heartache. Tune is heartbreak. My emotion is not fake. My mind is in earthquake.

It’s painful. It’s kinda tragic. It’s playful. The power of music.


Bare Feet Gal


Rain was falling as she stare on the window.

She stepped into the soaked road and grasses with bare feet,

Her hair, her whole body got wet.

She walked as she hugs herself in the coldness.

She cried, freely. Nobody could see the tears.

She ran and ran, pursuing the way to escape.

She danced, unpredictably. Nobody could see her moves.

And looking up, she watched the clouds go lighter as the rain falls heavier.

Her feet, her hands, her eyes was washed.

Grief and despair was gone.

Suddenly. She’s done with the pain.

Finally. Her heart and memory. The sky was clean.


The Writer, Unknown


I am fragile.

I am fractured.

I am torn.

I am broken.

But with all that, gave me the power to use my paper slips and ink.

I write down what I feel.

And now, I’m drowning with words. Magic arises.

My mind is full of ideas.

Madness, anger, insanity all broke down into tiny pieces as I convert them into art.

My eyes stops from crying.

My heart stops from bleeding.

And my soul runs away from all the mess that sorrounded me once.

Unstoppable. Unpredictable. Pain is inevitable. But I escape. Alone.

I am. The writer, Unknown.


To Mr. Wanderer


It’s 9:00 , I don’t know why I’m writing this for you but I’ll continue. I only want to say that I’m listening to music and yes, they’re about heartbreaks same to what I feel right now. 9:00 PM, the rain is falling, my heart is in ache, I’m scattering tears, I’m crying, and it’s because of you. Well, I’m not blaming you either ’cause I know that it’s all my fault and I’m the blameworthy in here not you, absolutely not.

I’m hiding my eyes from them, hoping not to be seen, not to be caught. But later, once the lights are out and they are asleep, I’ll burst again like what happened to me the last night. Your name will echo again in my mind over and over. My pillow will be soaked again. And my nighttime will be taken by sadness.

I don’t know why it is like this. I honestly don’t. I know I’m still too young but I feel so messed up, I feel so vain, so trap. I feel the same emotion when I stare at your pictures. Why would I dream of a person who don’t even know me? Why would I fall in love with someone who can never love me back? I know, I know that nobody will love me though. I’m unworthy.

I once wished that you could also feel what I feel, that you could realize my pain, that you could get yourself in this extreme sadness of mine. And that won’t happen. Never ever.

I wrote a lot already and I won’t stop ’til I got tired, ’til I know I’m empty, and ready to let you go. I hope one day you can read them for me. I hope one day you’ll do.

But let me be happy for you instead. I heard you’re in Hong Kong today, and I know you’re enjoying your moments there. Fulfill yourself, okay? And I will always be around as someone whom you don’t know. Someone who truly cares… Mr. Wanderer.


Is it the Time of Letting Go?


In my heavy breathing. I can’t see clear, I cant think veraciously, again. I’m facing the outside as I feel the weekend breeze, looks like time really moved so fast.

Why it seems like I don’t miss you anymore? There’s no known answer but I know that maybe, I only learned and it entered my mind that being with you is impossible.

After how many proses that I wrote for you, well finally, I think I’ll be giving it an ending yet. This will be the last, will it be? Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know where is this going as I write with random ideas, with unpicked kinds.

Did I just cry for you?

Did I only destructed myself?

I maybe fell going down to my illusions and overreacting emotions. It’s my sickness of over thinking.

Maybe, my heart forgets. Should I now let you go? ’cause I think I’m empty, ’cause I think my feelings was gone, ’cause I think I’m tired already.

I can’t appreciate you anymore, Can’t really I?

No more tears. No more pain. But at least, my mind is still confuse.

5:36 PM

All I know, is nothing.

All I know, I created a messy wrote of narrative with brevity. For you. For myself. For my freedom.


Sorry


Sorry?

I never say sorry. Unless I did not mean it, I never say sorry and ask for forgiveness because I know that I’m not mistake committed.

I never say sorry if I know I’m not blameworthy, if I’m not faulty. I never want to accept anything wrong.

But I only felt that I have to say the word to myself…

I’m maybe able to give it what it needs, but not the real things to give that real happiness, not the real love to build me completely.

“Sorry to me! ”