Threads woven together by our ancestry;

Stories of golden youths and infinite smiles;

Forming tapestries of yesteryear’s memories,

Seeking solace behind brown sugared irises.



The ancient oak tree that withstands tempest,

Crimson-gold leaves grasping at the sky.

Emblazoned roots of intertwined slander,

Seeking the ecstasy of glided gluttony.



Tripping over trepidation for validation,

The peculiar offbeat of being forlorn,

A sense of greater freedom; to be free,

In the eyes of judgemental mediocrity.



When I see my loved ones together,

And realise that I do not at feel,

So rather than ruminate the consequences,

I’d rather desecrate the purity of my innocence.


I’m forgotten; left to wither.

And it hurts.


The Blessing of Disappointment


“There is a plethora of innate disappointment,

Bound under sullen eyes; easel of lavender hues,

The sweet ignorance of undivided attention,

That promised you the world and its love.


Your four eyes and two faces;

Are reminders of saccharine sadness,

Embraced in scarves of white lies,

Shiver at the mere vanity of endeavour!


Your paper town upbringing and cutout love,

Traced silhouettes of my insecurities,

Painted my isolations with blissful caress,

White innocence of a darkened soul.


To seek comfort in the arms of strangers,

Malignant burdens that you couldn’t carry,

The subtle blame of being a prisoner;

Of my own illusion and society’s expectation.


The wonders of a platonic friendship

Once loved: To be remembered and mourned

The writings of an eulogy

That spoke of better times.


But I bow in acknowledgement 

To the end of what we shared

The peculiar beauty in letting friendships go

And savouring its lessons and in delight 

Realising that pain runs so deep,

That it opens the emptiness of my loss 

And allows me to be awed by the mystery of its haunting.”







You’ve planted your roots under the humid sun,

pushing the earthen ground of filial obedience,

to find the water of appreciation and peace,

seeking the nutrients of innate contentment.


But you have been uprooted too often,

that your body is torn and bloodied, 

with the sins of your past,

with the karmas of your future.


You realise you only have the strength,

to gain stability in the concrete homes,

of those that never had the heart,

to give you loyalty in the first place.


Shiver at the ironic natures of this world!


The roots that you buried,

have been left to wither and die,

under the humid sun and the breezy winds,

the memories; the laugher.


Your living soul Is nothing but a distant past of a life once lived and mourned.




Like withered leaves,
frolicking to autumn’s eddying air,
I’ll never know,
when will I settle,
satisfy the needs of innate contentment,
accept that the established sentiment,
of yesteryear’s regrets and dispositions,
were brewed; resonance of seasons,
of torment and wholesome blues,
the despair of crouching in broken homes,
lined with vines of toughened roots,
of darkened esteems and confidence,
to approach life.

When will I settle,
heal the chasms of neurotic inanities,
reject the weakened foundations of these paper towns,
glorified by the insatiable greed of paper people,
making cutout love in flimsy suburbia,
that failed to quench the pleas of adam-kind,
to erase the mistake,
of star-crossed sins and entwined hues;
the longing for better times,
to approach life.


“An angel born but not a grudge she bears;

As her ashes are scattered in the living air,

Of a world segregated in races and gender,

Blood stained hands destroying love so tender,

What a world we live in!

Blind to accept that killing foetuses is a sin;

To pluck the emerging blossom from within,

Their wage of life weighed in misery and pain,

The cycle of toxicity that begins again.

What a world we live in!”



“They found me,

chugging boba on blood-stained sidewalks,

watching the arrival of murrain twilights,

that gave birth to New Year’s merry moments.


Deciding that my Abang’s and Kor’s,

were no longer worthy,

to be heroes in my glorious chapters.


They found me,

choking pearls on blood-stained sidewalks,

the lingering void in tormented winds,

2018’s metaphor of cruelty and allegory.


A reverberation of the heart,

causes my veins to bleed.

The toxicity of one-sided friendships,

a crippling conflict of lost hope,

in the essence of real friendships.


The heart that longed companionship,

Braved the undulating waves of remorseful penance.

The lucid beat that withers in spring,

Craved purity in the echoes of broken dreams.


Stitching myself in weaves of reality,

Gravity beckons me to mortality,

The inevitable anguish to let go,

Trample over the ideals we sowed.


The heart ceases to fathom,

The anguish in my atoms,

You set my devotion ablaze,

Blinded hindsight in a summer haze.


To leave me behind,

When I thought you were a friend for life.



“Our entire friendship is built,

on caskets of unwanted burdens.

Clinging to the inferno of stolen memories,

like the end was a text away.

In the New Year,

I had begun to hope for change.

An aura of appreciation and respect,

your actions proved me wrong.

You left me to wither,

like Dandelions in Spring,

cutting wounds in holes and souls,

where blood can’t flow.

Poisoned by the toxicity,

of our tropical remnants.

Tripped with guilt,

of love so deep,

The ice that begins to grow within.”