Clutching on my bag, I walk home,
The golden sky watches over my shoulder.
The gust of wind ensures that I’m not alone,
With each step I take, I get closer.
98, 99, 100
With home still out of sight,
Only birds and trees on the right,
Although the day is turning to night,
Nothing in my way can deter my might.
498, 499, 500
Some rocks have gotten into my shoes,
Scraping the soles of my foot,
But there have been more things I have withstood,
This far in I have nothing else to lose.
998, 999, 1000
I can hear the melody of your laughter,
I’m not there yet, but I can still roam,
Taking further steps to the next chapter,
Looking forward to the next time I go home.
You are my home.
But how can I not smile,
when every time I look at you,
I see you fathering our children.
Hey there, little girl.
You may think you’re not doing well,
and the world is going against you.
Keep holding on,
you will get there.
It won’t be an easy path,
you will have your heart ripped out,
broken into pieces,
to the point you feel numb.
You will learn to fight,
and to let go.
They can forcibly take your flower crown,
but don’t let them take your innocence.
Nothing says love more than
simply being there
for someone who is crying their insecurities out on the floor
at 3 A.M.
bearing their pain
that is silence broken by the sound of their tears
knowing that this won’t be their last breakdown
and you choose to stay.
attraction brings you in,
but love makes you stay
Two imperfect pieces,
with different grooves and edges.
Each were not broken nor incomplete,
each were perfectly neat.
Where one was lacking, the other had more,
and in that empty space, they meet.
Like the perfect snug, they fit.
No need to search for a missing piece anymore.
Put together, pulled apart through time,
and distance that is far.
No matter how pulled apart they are,
they will be put together in time.
Because they are the imperfect pieces that fit perfectly only with each other.
And when they are together, everything makes sense again.
Perfection, flawless, impeccable.
Unrealistic and unattainable.
Mistakes and flaws.
Gripping my heart like claws.
Until when will I punish myself?
This perfection obsession,
hazed my reflection.
Is the mirror dirty or is my brain cloudy?
The more I avoid making mistakes,
the more I make mistakes.
What do I do after the mistakes are made?
Acknowledge and learn.
I’m perfection in my imperfection.
A little girl prays on her knees,
begging to God that one day she will be cherished.
She prayed that as her hair grows to her knees,
her love would also have flourished.
After years, her dreams were shattered,
her heart was hurt,
its pieces were scattered,
her hair was cut short.
She hated God.
For years her hair was kept short,
and she built herself a fort.
She took herself for a fool,
oh how could God be so cruel?
She was told that she was worthless.
She believed that she was undeserving.
A worthless woman, undeserving of love.
So many people God took away from her,
He told her to patiently wait.
Then He sent a man to her,
a man who is set to be her fate.
A man who would cherish her.
As she grows her hair again,
her love will reign,
her love will not go in vain.
Because he made her believe in love and God again.