I don't know

I don't know how to speak. And maybe, I don't know what it is that I need to speak of. I am forewarned about life, but most times, I still get surprised by the strength of its force. I am confused most times on what is acceptable and on how to accept things as they are. I am barely capable to hold it all in, neither am I capable to move against such things.

That's why I like poetry. Poems speak without having to speak. And I like that. There's a strong desire for me to let it all out. But there's this strong sense to just keep it all in. The only balance between the desire and the sense is poetry. And I saw how it has been a wonderful tool, until I have to speak. And to really speak in this matter. 

I know that even my speech right now is in a form of a riddle or a puzzle, if anyone may try to solve it. It may be a piece of blabber to everyone else who don't care. But maybe sometimes I have to speak up and speak out. 

And say: I am hurt. 

That's what I cannot say. The state I've always hidden behind a string of words, paired analogies, and stuff same. Somehow, it is much more difficult to say these three words than to write a hundred-word piece going round in circles only to get to that point. Because I can't. I started off by saying I don't know how and I don't know what is to speak of, but I have come to the conclusion that: I am hurt. 

I thought I prefer honesty over kindness. It annoys me to think that people think I'm incapable of handling the truth so they just try to wrap it up prettily. I can hardly handle kindness, I thought. But then, I realized that neither could I handle honesty. Because it hurts. And when a hurtful truth has just been presented, I try to find a hole in it. To refute it. To say that maybe it is not as it has been said it is. But what can I do? The endpoint should always be acceptance. 

And it's difficult. 

When you're hurt. 

And I don't know. 

I just don't know what to speak of anymore. 

Poetry

via

Breathing out what has been breathed in

Saying things that cannot be said

Speaking truths without being honest

Freedom encapsulated in a cylinder

Words are lovely, words are pure

I'll tell you things that are deep and true

Words are real, words are beautiful

I'll tell you stories about how I love you

Happy National Poetry Day in UK!! 

For a while now

Inseparable from these incomprehensible beats
Mind floating and flying to where we were
Inevitable thoughts dance their way through wires
Should I speak of what is true
Should I lie to keep the beauty I hold
Years I await to change what's conspired
Oblige me to forget and let go
Untie me from you, and you from me

Poetrylease

Riddles can do something tricky

It can tell you a secret sneakily

Without it talking you will hear it

Without it moving, it makes a beat

The author delivers you one

It is a truth about a lottery won

A truth that can fatally hurt

It can trap people with its rebirth

No one really wants to hear it

But there it screams clear and vivid

It requires the attention of the asleep

It will add to the secrets that you keep

The voice of the woman cries

As her existence surely, slowly dies

She tries to escape the devil's hands

But it won't hearken to her demands

The woman has lived and existed anew

Leaving the present without the past's clue

But suddenly the fear she kept woke

And now it is ready to remove its cloak

The woman's daughter is atonement

From the things that keep her torment

The child teaches the way out

And the woman answers a gentle shout

Veiled thoughts

These are among my bleak days
When all I wanna do is gaze
Confused of the things around
Judgment is low and unsound

For another moment in my life
I stabbed myself again with a knife
Seems like I never learn
Failed fulfilling what I've sworn

What is my life to you?
Do you notice what I do?
Am I another shadow behind
That one which you'll never find

Questioning myself again and again
To find someone who loves me, when?
Someone who'll make me pink and blue,
Where the heavens are you?

Trapped in another wrong world
Where my heart feels cold
This time, I need speedy rescue
Can't you rush here, won't you?

This is another bad poem I made
Writing things repeatedly said
Trying to put drama into a word
Burying words in the cemetery of Unheard

And here the backseat girl wrote
Things you might have never thought
Don't mind my presence by you
Ha you won't really mind me, will you?

Oh yea, drama. I can't seem to get enough of it. This is just another record of the funny feelings I wanna blurt out. High schoolish in every sense, yes. Used words I use when writing poems for my high school crush. I wish I could express myself better right now, but these are all I got. I think words have defeated me, and who knows what else will make me feel gloomy?

Noon time, sun is high
Deep inside I try
To find the poetry
Lingering in me
My words are dull
I break my skull
Just to find
What I have to write
Nothing comes 
But gentle hums
My heart is quiet
Plain life & death
This minute is bare
From laughs and tears
It's peaceful as sea
Art is a bit wee
Nothing to do
Got no clue
Then came a thought
Provoked by a yawn
Better to slumber
And be a gentle dreamer