A W.A.R.M. Poem

Warm,

When you feel cold inside

Lonely and blinded

Lost in this tunnel without any light

We will share our warmth with you

Let you know we are all the same

On this stage we call life

 

Suffering too

But we will hold your hands

And we will march together

In this tunnel without any light

 

I promise you

One day you will see

The meaning behind our destiny

One day,

it will all makes sense to you

one day,

you will feel the warmth surrounding you

like it always has been

 

Anonymous

Our pain is anonymous

Our struggle is anonymous

Our names are anonymous

Our existence is anonymous

 

But that is only for today

One day,

Our pain will transform in to the starry night

of Van gogh’s beauty

our colors

will be so vivid that it ignites fire in the heart of others

 

one day,

our struggle will be no more

our past will be known

it will no longer be anonymous

it’s name will be bravery

 

one day,

our names will be told

for we are the ones that stand straight

when our worlds are crumbling

 

for we are the ones that love

as many people as we can

along the way

 

for we

are the ones

that never stop reaching out

 

one day,

our existence will shine as the light

at the end of other people’s tunnels

our existence will leave traces of footsteps

for the lost ones to follow

and one day,

they will find their paths too

 

Reconnecting,

Side by side, we are not alone

No matter what it was like before

It will be like that no more

 

Picking up the pieces of yesterday

Together we complete

the most complicated puzzles in the world

broken pieces glued back together

joint effort

we find our lost selves

rediscovering dignity that we thought disappeared

reinforcing the strength that was hidden deep inside

 

together, we see our destiny

together, we conquer

together, we support each other

together, we build our own stories

together, we are no longer alone

 

mentally,

we see your true mentality

not the mask you wear

painted by society

 

with us, you can take your mask off safely

with us, we are connected mentally

with us, we will support you unconditionally

with us, you can be the you

that you have always meant to be

 

women anonymous reconnecting mentally,

WARM,

We are free from society’s norms

We do not need to conform anymore

We are creating our own identity

We are reclaiming control

We are the differences

we want to see

in the world

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Am I Taking Back Control

Am I taking back control

by doing this

I ponder as I sit

with a bottle of sleeping pills before me

I stare at it

As I ponder if I am taking back control

By doing this

 

According to Buddhism

I chose to be reborn

If that is the truth to be told

I regret it

I regret being born

Growing up in this world

I regret it

I regret choosing to come back

to this

 

I am drained

No energy left

Did I consent to being born

Did I agree to this world

 

I was sent into a cosmic

Which is a bad mistake

Sometimes I think

I am the bad mistake

 

 

What is a mistake

Choosing life or ending it

Taking back control

because I didn’t agree to it

 

I ponder as I sit

with a bottle of sleeping pills before me

 

 

 

 

Lost Meaning

When we do something over and over again

It loses its meaning

 

We say I love you to each other

Over and over again

And it loses its meaning

 

We kiss over and over again

And it loses its meaning

 

We talk about our days

Over and over again

And it loses its meaning

 

I breathe and breathe again

Until it loses its meaning

 

I am drowning in this ocean of lost meaning

Soaking in despondency

But you are on a safe boat

Not rocky nor defeated

 

I am drowning in this ocean of lost meaning

You reached out your hand

Attempting to pull me back

I see your eyes, shining

Like how you’ve always looked at me

Full of hope and affection

I’m afraid I can’t live up to your expectation

 

You reached out your hand

With that smile on your face

The smile a bit brisky

A bit naughty

 

You’ve gazed at me with those eyes and smiles

Since the beginning of our stories

The voices in my head is in repetition

About how one day

I’ll look at you like that

But by then you will look at me

like how I’m looking at you now

 

You ask what can be done

To get me back on the boat

And I say no to every suggestion

I guess because of self-loathing

 

I think I need to drown

After all, I have fought and lost

Perhaps in the water is where I belong

This ocean of lost meaning

 

 

 

The Mask

we all wear it

the mask

a smile or a dance

laughter or music

 

scars hidden

we don’t talk about it

 

for a conversation

it’s not always the best topic

 

loved ones in the past

whom we sealed in a bottle

because they hurt us

and we haven’t let go

or we let them fall

and they left for another land

or they hurt themselves

and we could have done something about it

 

we don’t talk about it

the things that pained us

the sadness we thought we buried

that comes out when we don’t notice

the mistakes we have made

the loneliness we feel in bed

 

the nights we toss and turn

because the mask has fallen

the wounds are not transparent

not disguising its existence

 

we don’t talk about it

but we all wear it

the mask

it seems like a taboo

to talk about you

or me

or him

or her

or being lost again

 

we have been taught

what’s positive or negative

what’s strong and what’s weak

to snap out of it

so we wear a mask

so the things we are afraid of

won’t be brought up

so we won’t be blamed again

 

we wear a colorful mask

when we are hollow all day

suffering in our own way

but we don’t talk about it

afraid to be judged

afraid to cause harm

afraid to be exposed

afraid

just afraid

the mask covers so we don’t have to face

 

we all wear the mask

pretending to be okay

at a dinner party

friends’ gathering

important jobs

or maybe in a pub

characters we play

on this stage we call life

 

we should start talking about it

we should stop the judging and start understanding

start loving

start forgiving, you and me

we should leave people better than we found them

not let them fade

behind the mask

 

we should start talking about it

we should be okay with not being okay

with every hey are you okay

it should be a question full of love and respect

not a social gesture that’s a bit awkward

 

we should make others comfortable

feel safe

feel less alone

because in the end we are all the same

we are together in this place called life

and we should stop wearing the mask

by being the one that starts loving

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1246

1246 days

of sobriety

 

3 years

4 months

4 weeks

alcohol-free

 

The drunk version of me

Erased by memory

The crazy days

The erotic encounters

All seem so blurred

Lost in history

 

Buried deep in the dirt

Along with my lonely tears

The hearts I’ve broken

Friends who fled away

The relationships that faded

The sins I committed

People I lost faith in

All buried deep in the dirt

 

Bottles after bottles of alcohol

Demeanor of self-deception

Trusting that alcohol was alleviation

And yet left alone

with empty bottles

Empty as I was

Piled up like my troubles

Taking up all the spaces

Mocking my last sanity

 

Whiskey tasted like self-love

The next morning it reeked agony from my inside

the smell lingered

for 3 years

4 months

4 weeks

the mistakes I’ve made

all buried deep in the dirt

yet always there as a reminder

 

1246 days

alcohol-free

sobriety enables me to see

all the misery

clear and fair

what I suffer

How I suffer

the pain is greater when I am sober

I live through the sadness I try so hard to ignore

 

the past never truly disappeared

always there as a mockery

reminding me of all the failures

the worst version of me I have ever been

 

choosing recovery

but trapped in memory lane

the illusion of how whiskey can cure

seems so tempting

my mental disease

all relied on it

 

1246 days

alcohol-free

every today

is followed by a struggling yesterday

every hopeful tomorrow

is constructed by a skeptical today

 

3 years

4 months

4 weeks

of recovery

 

recovery glows flowers

adorning the grave I dug for myself

white and yellow flowers

on the dirt I buried my history

white as I my heart is now pure

yellow as the sun spreads hope

 

A Happy Family

For once I am grateful

Things are not perfect, I know

And things never will be

They can’t be

 

I will always be looking

into other people’s windows

What’s in their homes

I will always want a complete family

One that is happy

 

I realized years ago

I made it my personal quest

To find the perfect family

joyous and flawless

 

As if finding one

could bring me answers

I think years ago

what I wanted was hope

A possibility that one day

I could be happy too

I just didn’t know

 

But it was an unpractical dream

I did find happy families

But the happiness

was never permanent

Happiness wasn’t supposed to be present

at all moments

 

Even the one family I found

That came closest to what I supposed

a happy family should be

There are still hard times, disappointments

 

But during those moments

They surrounded each other

with love and acceptance

No blaming, no anger, no quarrels

Just support and acceptance

Not even a moment of hatred

 

I guess at that point

I kind of found ‘the’ family

And I wanted to make it mine too

They let me in

Included me like one of them

 

I thought I was finally happy

But there was still some void inside me

I noticed them

when I was trying to look away

 

The quest was a failure

I found ‘the’ family

But it still couldn’t fill up

the emptiness in me

 

When they eventually told me

about my family

For once I found contentment

Felt relieved

 

Because they thought we always looked so happy

And that they always saw so much love

When my father looked at me

The way he looked at me

 

They thought ‘we’ were the perfect family

The one I thought had been broken

They thought we were perfect

Somehow I had no memories

of what they were saying

 

But that gave me relief

I finally found answers to the questions

which I didn’t know I had

My father did love me once

 

They saw what they wanted to see

And thought we were perfect

I saw what I wanted to see

And thought they were perfect

 

But besides all that

Every family has their difficulties

No matter how fortunate they seem

There are still stories untold

Kept as secrets

Hoping others won’t notice

Keeping the appearances of perfection

 

Years later now

I’d say we are finally happy

Separated and apart

But happy

 

Most people would say

we are a broken family now

 

But individually

we are happy and content

Together we support each other

With love and acceptance

like I once witnessed myself

 

We are not perfect

But we are happy

We don’t have much

But we are happy

 

Like how mom and dad once were

They didn’t have much

But they were happy

Hope kept them together

Their imagination created the future

They were young and fulfilling dreams

Not perfect but very happy

 

And maybe now I can be too

 

Tired

Tired of being tired

Tired of pretending

Tired of trying

 

Trying to find an identity

Trying to find a way home

Trying to find a home

Trying to be alone

 

There is never enough space

And I’m always looking for an escape

Always lost in this time or this thing

Tired of faking smiles

Tired of heartbreaks

 

Tired of society

Tired of conforming

Tired of rebelling

Tired of tracing the footsteps back to nothing

 

Tired of loving

Tired of emotions

Or the lack of them

 

Tired of not knowing

Questions after questions

Always in the quest of solutions

Tracing the footsteps back to the beginning

Tired of being scared

Uncertainties cause commotions

 

Tired of squeezing meaning

Into this empty existence

Everything happens for a reason

not necessarily for a meaning

Tired of making efforts to see

Across the ocean

There’s nothing over the rainbow

 

Tired of spinning

on what I thought was merry-go-round

Spinning so fast

Barely recognize the world

I can never be sure

If I am joyous or

Just mimicking others

 

Merry is a story

The going only gets tough

Rounds are a misbelief

Tired of explaining

Why I don’t want to play

 

Tired of living

Tired of being

Dismembered concept

Shattered moments

Of an ironic C’est la vie

 

Painting colors on air

Efforts in vain

Tired of being tired

Tired of trying

 

Tired of being wrong

Tired of being right

Tired of wondering

If there is an answer for anything