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.



You’re screaming but they can’t hear.

You’re drowning but they can’t descry.

With people in hideous,

No one cares about your tears.

No one cares about your cries.

No one cares about your pain.

Only you and you can save yourself away from that distress.


The Avowal

Under the dim light up my head, I am folding my legs, coating my body with my long arms, and closing my eyes. Biting my lips as I tremble in fright and fear.

Each of us has our own secrets, has our own inner opinions about ourselves and problems that we won’t and we will never share. I know, but mine keeps on appearing, showing itself up and that’s something to put me in shame. I think, I can’t anymore keep on hiding and now is the right time to let it all go and just be what and who I am.

Different sounds of my own voice says a lot inside my head, utters lot of self-criticisms against me and I can’t stop, my mind can’t force it to shut. “You’re hypocrite, you’re lame, you’re full of flaws”. It attacks my ears but this has to continue ’cause it’s true. I’m not good and I’ll never be enough.

I’m acting far from the real me, I exaggerate myself and paint it with different colors to change. I act that I can be anything and anybody and I can’t. I couldn’t speak, I’m mute. I show people that I’m strong, that I’m versatile and not. I always cover my weaknesses with smiles and chin-up.

I can’t face ’em all. I’m incomplete, I search for acceptance, the real one. I always seek for love and that’s something I can never have.

Own voice swallow me now. I can’t anymore take it, I can’t anymore stay and stand. Everything’s fine and it wasn’t. All I am is failure, sadness, and tears.

But my heart is a vast space of hollow darkness and avenge.

[L]ove, pain, and [A]esthetics

Honestly, I don’t know how to start, I dont know what should be my words. Am I just making this for you or for myself ? I’m not sure if I’ll successfully craft this narrative prose out but all I know is that I want to unlock this trapped weight inside and express it out. I’m not sure cause nothing is sure, all I’ll do is try.

Can I just tell you that I am always in loneliness, I exactly know how my days run and how I look for my space, that I am always with my drowsy feeling, with my teary eyes, with my writing hand, with my fractured heart ?

Then I met you, never know what’s this dumb thing I’m lighting up again but I continue and I do. My dark times are usually spend thinking of you, nights are full of silence. Your beautiful voice, It’s like you’re a sad song in my mind that keeps on playing and giving my body chills. I can’t see anything but you, I love that eyes, that hair which is obviously soft to touch , that teeth of yours seeming cute, and that smile of perfection. Who are you to me? And who am I to you?

All I know is that you’re a Filipino-Italiano, you’re a model, you’re a Youtube Vlogger, you contain lots of positive and unique qualities. Don’t you know that I love your wanderer side?

Don’t you know that I always wait for your tweets?

Don’t you know that I even read your blog done from year 2013?

Don’t you know that I love your complete name and used it to my little stuff?

What makes you so wonderful?

I got tired of saving your 2093 photos on my phone, Have you ever told me to do that? You didn’t, my mind abruptly answers. I am sick and I’m trying to overcome it. I memorized the path and I’m walking to it now.

I, I am just nothing but a hopeless stranger poisoned with stupidity. I felt missing and I have no idea why is it like this, it’s devastating me. I know where it’ll lead, to better heartbreak I guess cause you’ll never walk and travel the same path I’m talking about. Someday, you’ll find that perfect match and I shall be happy, I don’t and I will never hold any right to dictate things to you. It says that If you love a person, then value his happiness not yourself.

You’re in the middle of shining on me but soon, you’ll set and I hope another sun will shine, and I wish that it will be you again.

I’m still thinking if I’ll let you know about this wrote or not, why would I ? Or why wouldn’t I ?

You’re my written calligraphy, this is done to let you know that you’re important and you’re a part of my life. I hope you’ll be reading this… And at that time, my heart will be free from pretends and denial.

Burned Eve

Her pale face is covered with thick layer of make-up, her violet, dark lips is coated with deep crimson red paint, and her messy hair floats through the blows of night wind.

Her tongue says nothing but dirty words, her hands touches filth. She walks at a strange, noisy, crowded streets every night finding someone to pay. And that’s how people define and look at you, no good reputation.

You’re not anymore happy with what you’re doing everytime you put yourself in a hot flame that burns you quickly, I know that. You’re tired of making your soul a business and being the actress of your own movie of sensitiveness. You can’t anymore breath at darkness.

That’s not the life you’ve wanted. Don’t look at your poverty but at yourself, stare how fractured and damaged you became, you’re a woman of indignity.

That’s not the life you’ve wanted. Remember when you’re just a little kid, a little princess with your eyes full of innocence and not seduction. You dreamed of finding your paradise of happiness and be a queen of incomparable beauty and respect.

Now, the fate turned wrongly and you had that life of opposition. You’re already deaf that you can’t anymore hear how people call you “immoral woman” that puts pain in your ears.

Cry now, the quilt and extreme embarrassment is in you but it’s never too late to change.

That woman engaging and committing evil and in satisfying men isn’t the woman you dreamed to be. You’re not that coquette. That isn’t you.

At my Cup of Coffee

We all have pain, Who don’t, Right?

The pain that we always keep and and try to convert into smiles most of the time that we feel it. It’s complicated to cover that smile on our lips especially if ain’t true, but we shall.

I hope someday, somebody there will understand, will listen, and will take all the grief away.

At night, I could feel it but it seems like my eyes are dry and there’s no tears to cry but when the morning comes, it seems like the feeling is stronger and I want to express it all out but I can’t. I will wake myself into the sunshine of reality and then sip my cup of coffee. At every sweetness that coats my tongue, gives me hope of tomorrow and at every bitterness that changes the taste, reminds me of despair and nothingness.

Every sunshine and sunsets are part of the cycle, I walk at the same thing that happens over and over again.

I smile, I laugh, I tears, I cry, I’m in silence, I’m in noise, I’m in miserableness. Drama will never stop.


I have thousands of vizards. Vizards that I use everyday, vizards of hypocrisy.

Each time I get out to where I belong and enter the crowded, I abruptly change my being and show some other side, other side you may know me as.

Every single person I confront deserves one of my mascaras, Mascara that will show him how he is, who, what, and how he treat me. I’m telling you, I’m a mirror and you have your reflection on me and on my eyes.

I have numbers of Aesthetics in my pocket, you’ll never know and recognize me purely. I always transform and change everything in me. You’ll never see how I get affected by things.

I’m smiling but the inside isn’t the same with it’s external beauty. My looks don’t define my personality, and my personality don’t contain my feelings, my heart. You’ll never see the real me.

Im telling you, I have thousands of faces but none of them is true.

Authentically Ravishing

She opened her eyes in the most beautiful sunshine, Living like a princess running freely, stepping at the moist grasses and throwing wildflowers while catching butterflies and dragonflies, wonderin’ by the floating fuzzes of Dandelion in the air.

At night, she’ll comb her long, golden hair same to Rapunzel, then dance gracefully as she wear her most elegant gown. She always believe in herself, believe that she’s inside a book telling a story of fairytale…

She never change anything. Not her body, not her virtues, not her way of uttering words in singing and talking, not the way she treat them, not her name, not obviously her face. She accepted the facts of what was given to her, cause it’s her assets.

People are talking so loud, She can’t hear it all.

People are judging her, It’s none of her problems.

People are pointing fingers, She’s taking it all.

The truth is she’s so imperfect, everything feels like a mess. She’s living a life that any girls wouldn’t dream of, she’s on a fallacy.

But she kept on dancing in the rain, someday the sunshine will be back, and the rainbow for her will show up.

She chose what she knows best, and that’s to be unedited.

That’s the smartest, wisest, and the most right decision that was quite impressive and made her one of the most beautiful ladies.

Woman of steel

She always fly just to save.
She pack herself everyday with strenght to face the reality of the world, that life is pain and sacrifices, you’ll never find comfort on your way if you’ll never move.

There’s none a day in her life that she stopped, time is important and every single seconds shall always work as a chance, chance to give hope, love, knowledge, and power to whom she’s caring for.

She always know her ways, she always know what’s the best thing to do. Most of the time, she’s tired from working so hard just to save the day, but still continue and wake up early because she has no one to rely on but herself and her love for them.

She’s in pain, people don’t know.
She’s tired but people can’t give her time to sleep for just minutes or even seconds though she don’t anymore sleep just for them.
She’s crying inside for not being appreciated sometimes and the worst is that, the blame is always on her. She’s crying but not showing her tears, she’s actually weak because she’s just a woman but never give-up to pass strength to many.

She’s the woman of steel in the world, known for that name in general.
Steel that you can hammer, twist, burn, reshape, transform but can’t be break. No, you can never break steel and even it become rusty, it lasts.

If there’s superman, then there’s also superwoman.

Our mothers.

Sunday / May 13,2018 – Mother’s Day