And so the rain fell to the humid lands
Memorizing the shapes of the hills
Hoping to even dampen your livid hands
Then revers’d to expect your lovely shrills
Endowed with stale and nonpleasing smell
Rocks of course nature could honestly tell
Am a nonending rain to your fruitful soil
Given that you and I are water and oil.
Giving me a dose of death each day
Reminiscing the things that never was
A knowing that you’re forever away
Mustn’t allow me to love you, thus?
Half the waking hours of my life
The thoughts of not having you, the strife!
Exchanging the other half:
Remembering your innocent laugh!
Preface: I made this about 4-5 years ago for my About Me profile section. I had to scrap this later because (1) it’s getting quite old and boring and (2) it sounds too pathetically self-centered. Anyway, I modified it a bit and posted it here for preservation (harddisks are not that reliable, you know). Anyway, please excuse the stupid title and go ahead read the text. Comment as you please or leave it be.
Have you seen me?!
Have you lingered too long to gaze at the harsh contours of my shell: the inevitable housing that doesn’t give me the slightest clue of what I am? I can never seem to touch the texture of my skin. My arms are made to rotate so that I could only put it on my mouth. I have lived unscathed, yet to me, it doesn’t seem like a privilege. I am compared to a sand dune whose identity can never be established without the hurtful limbs of the cruel sand storms. Yet I crumble easily, often without reason.
Look at me!
Does my hive look obscene to you? Am I as disgusting as a formless clay? You have judged me from the start and all I can do is lurk inside my own fantasy where I have lived like a god: vividly faceless. I have protected myself by telling fables about a splendid creature crawling out of its dreaded cocoon. But those were all damn rotten! Now, I am not sure if I could ever be that creature. If I am to be trapped inside here while I am still existing.
Are you still there?!
Are you holding-on to my plea? Or are you doing your routine? Never stopping to behold a catastrophe that is quaking inside a confused heart. This might just be cliché to you.
Stop! Please…
Listen to me. Behold your own blood, is it not dripping to calm waters and producing ripples? Or do I live for you and you for me? Do I belong to your class? Am I also a flying critter? I do not see myself roaming around with freedom. Never coming down to dampen a foot. Never listening to the crunch of the dried leaves when steeped at.
You may have seen the highest places, you may have witnessed the stars turn into suns. But have you seen me? Have you ever been here? Have you ever felt disowned?
Am I to exist forever?
From here, I see only a seed turn into a tree. The tree whose fruits have given joy to many sweet smiles. The tree whose leaves are all green. The tree whose flowers are always at full bloom. The tree whose death is sudden. The tree, that I know, I will never again see…