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

 

 

 

 

 

 

In this Ocean

In this Ocean

I am a carved wooden boat

with the ever-changing wind I float

I guess we are all lost in some degree

Eyes blinded and cannot see

 

In this Ocean

I am a carved wooden boat

I turn my head around

Struggle to float against the force

my body stiffen

eyes wide open

 

with all the strength

the unassailable flow of nature I defy

Just to gaze again

at the breathtaking scenery

which I once sang and danced to

 

In this Ocean

I am a carved wooden boat

always almost immersed by water

but would never let myself be smothered

because of the moon upon me

that I have made a promise to

 

I will always be empty

The carpenter who made me

have not seen me in the ocean

The sailor who once paddled me

Left after the fourth sunset we watched

 

And I will always be searching

for a shore that I can call home

but will always end up with the cold embrace of the waves

 

I let the storm fill me with the rain

convincing myself that rain

can do what glue does

Rain will piece me back like a puzzle

Rain will appease the tempest in me

 

When the stars come out and the rain stop

I realize that the rain drops

were the reason why

there was a tempest in me at the first place

 

but I still miss how the rain showered me

and how comforting it was to not be empty

I blame the clouds for taking my heart away

It would be the twentieth sunset

that I realize

rain belongs to somewhere else

a garden or a river, perhaps

 

I will always be saying goodbye

to the carpenter who made me

to the sailor who once

taught me everything about the ocean

to the waves that pushed me forward

to the sunrise and sunset

to the cruises that sometimes pass by

and with every goodbye I say

there is a crack somewhere on my body.

 

Someone somewhere

Once told me a story about how there is a lighthouse

in the end of this ocean

I do not believe it

I have been floating alone

for too long

and the idea of a lighthouse

sounds only like a story

 

I have counted the sunset too many times

That I stop waiting for it

I start to enjoy the darkness

that follows the sunset

I rejoice in how lost I am

I wonder if I am also like the lighthouse

Just a story someone carelessly mentions

I ask yet again the moon

for some sort of wisdom

 

the ocean water has never been warmer or brighter

I don’t remember ever reaching out for this softness

It seems like the ocean water has been holding me up

from the very beginning

I just never really looked at them this way

 

Then I remember the story someone once told me

About how there is a lighthouse

In the end of this ocean

It became my only dream

 

I imagine

This sublime white tower

this building that looks as jaded as I will have become

emitting light into the impalpable

 

somehow

It would let me close my eyes

And drown

I would hear the sound of nothingness

in the bottom of this ocean

 

When I open my eyes

I will feel the touch of the lighthouse

As loving and gentle

like the first time I sailed

I would find myself

a part of the tower now

Emitting lights into the depths of the darkness

Introverted

There’s too many people

In the living room 

Making small talks

Covering the basics

What they do 

Where they’re from 

The weather’s looking rather good

Jokes about whatever it is 

 

I wonder if we can skip

These small talks

Meaningless small talks 

Killing time

Disguising awkwardness 

 

I wonder why we do this 

Meaningless small talks 

Covering the basics

Repeating it

To everyone newly met 

Disguising awkwardness 

Killing time until the party ends

 

We go home with nothing but jokes and names

of someone we still barely know

Acquaintances 

Is what small talks make people into 

 

Not friends 

Just someone you met at the party 

 

I wonder why we do it

Gather together 

Using small talks to fill in the gaps 

Meaningless and dull

Just because we have to

 

It makes me uncomfortable 

Is this what we’re doing with our time 

It stresses me out

We could have been doing something else

Anything but this 

 

Is it just me 

Or does small talks really cheer people up

Bring them together 

Like their laughters are genuine 

Because I know mine’s not

 

Sitting there wondering 

Is this why we’re all here for

Talking about food 

 

Nodding but not listening

There’s too many people here

People I’ve never met

And maybe never will again 

 

I’ll forget about their names

Their Interests 

Or what they look like 

After a few days

So why are we doing this 

 

Hanging out

Talking about everything but nothing 

Trying to be part of something 

 

More people are coming in

And it makes me feel queasy

The room is not big enough 

And the noises are too loud

People trying not to miss out

 

I guess anyone could do without this party

After all it’s just for fitting in

With a bunch of new strangers we will soon call friends

 

But really, we still don’t know much about them

Or will forget about them soon enough 

So why are we doing this

Something that will lose its meaning tomorrow 

 

Talking about everything but nothing 

Laughing to jokes awkwardly 

But don’t really understand why it’s funny 

Is this what we really are

Consists of small talks

Everything but nothing