Blue – Part 1

There I am again sitting alone in that cozy empty living room.

Drowning by the waves of my own thoughts.

Anxiety swallowing me

My heart is cold, blue.


I write the previous verses so confidently.

Yet after I glimpse into your eyes for a mere 5 s, I want to go into a silent corner and write 70 pages of verses of them.

The witch who can’t love.

I’m sorry my love but this heart can’t return your love.

I can pity you, I can empathise with you but I can never learn to love.

I never loved my mother nor my father even from a young age and when I was old enough to learn the meaning of self love, I barely find my existence tolerable like I did all my lifespan.

My heart a void dessert. No greens can grow, no rain can quench it’s thirst.

Dry your sorrow in the hands of a another woman. For I am a cursed witch with a stone heart waiting for death to end my life’s misery.

I accepted my fate, go accept yours.


I remembered the time I used to watch sunrises at the behind of the school building. The secret spot behind the Year 5 building just beside the primary Tamil vernacular school. The spot where sometimes the rebellious boys in my school smoke secretly without being caught by my discipline teacher, the same spot where some prepubescent couples spent few minutes of their time dating in the midst of the much waited lunch break. However preoccupied and famous the spot was, during early mornings it was mine and mine alone. I don’t know why the sun rising behind the proud Titiwangsa range always mesmerized me for no reason. It reminded me of home.

As the sun rises from the horizon in my tiny apartment in Johor, I walked out from my door. Tachycardic and anxious as always. Regardless, I felt happy seeing a familiar sight, I haven’t seen for years. I’m always working, waking up early and going home late. The grey building, 24 lights and air-conditioned room messes up your circadian rhythm. How nostalgic to see this sight and feel happy, a feeling I lost in months.

Chasing pavements

We walk and we walk till there is no longer tomorrow. Borrowing myself from the manual, because I am hollow.

We look down on other people because it’s the best thing we can do. We feel good by putting down on things that we think is unparalleled to us.

Am I perfect or am I just a person who pretends to be one? Am I sad because judging people makes me feel better about myself?

Are we really treating people or treating our pride? My body counts higher, but I take pride in ‘treating’ numbers.

My achievements are better than yours, my nose grows longers.

Here I am standing with nothing to loose.Talk me down if it’s makes you feel better, I’m not longer aroused.

I used to chase pavements, seek validation but I realise its a toxic cycle.

Twenty minutes

White lies that I think, comes choking me back from a distance of time.

Should I cry for help? Am I even worth to cry for help?

Maggots running round the floor of my living room, getting burned by the scorching morning sunlight. Laundry piles of unwashed clothes lay there for months.

I lay there at the brink of death in my sweat and coffee stained coach, gasping for air, twenty minutes after swallowing my twentieth acetaminophen.

In another twenty minutes, I’ll be gone from this hell of a world. Slowing my eyes are closing.

I wonder if people will notice. I wonder if they will cry.

I don’t even feel sad now, I only feel numb.

Maybe they will be sad and angry because another failed to show of at work, cursing my existence for their overwork. By then I am gone, being a meal for the maggots in my home.

I wonder by then my father would finally realise that I’m not fixable by words. “Be brave” , “Be happy”

Well, in twenty minutes it won’t matter either way.

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