Silence

Whenever I speak, no one listens. No matter how hard I try to speak my mind, no one would be there to lend a ear. Major cliques, minor pairs. I'm odd. So, I don't speak. And when I go off silently, people start to scold me. Ticking me off. Yes, I'm a grouch. Everyone's a saint. I'm a Satan. I'm the devil. Monster. Everyone else are considered nice, caring etc.. I'm a devil, I know no nice things.

Right. Everyone cares about me, or perhaps, just my presence. Care care care. They are only words. How can I ever forget, everyone else loves to speak louder than actions, especially to me. Everyone else to everyone else, action and words are always there. They love each other. I'm odd. No wonder.

I'm the devil.
I'm the Satan.
I'm the monster.
I'm evil.
Fine.
I shall remain silent.

Since words do not affect them,

why not speak no more?

Since silence can hurt people more,
why not?
Since they can hurt me,
why can't I?
I want to hurt everyone.
Hurt them utterly.
We all need to share.
I have a whole load of hurt,
why not let me share them?
Painful, that's only the beginning.


I care,






















no more.

Hiss

My barrel is scraped
your hissing, choked-up scream
dissonates as sharp fork
tines on spent china
all my ventricles are speared
left dangling
from a metal tree
for cruel breezes
to examine clinically
whispering to the world
their expertise
wheezing sound judgements
which drop like jailers’ keys
on clanging ground.

That's all I have to say.
I am so disappointed.

Changing perspective?

Maybe.
Still lost.
And what's worst? I'm confused.
He answered my prayers.
And I know I still need to work hard on certain stuff.
Maybe I was harsh a little.
Maybe I should reflect on what Pastor Koh said.
Confusion.
Can't fall into Satan's trap.
But I'm weak.
Can't help it.
It's just old habits.
Never mind.
You won't understand.

Proven Loser

24% self-worth.
28% self esteem.
79% depression.
70/150 for emotional IQ test.

These tests may not be accurate but who cares.
I am low self esteem.
A truely sad and depressed person.
Nothing makes me happy.
Because my life is just stale.
Just like a stale bread.
Grey. Everything's grey.
Colours don't exist.
Not in my world.
Seriously, I hate myself.
I hate the mornings.
Waking up to get scolded.
I hate the nights.
Doing work to get scolded.
I hate the afternoons.
Too busy to eat and get scolded.
I hate my life.
And I will get scolded.
I AM FAKING MY LIFE.
EVERYTHING I DO IS TO PLEASE EVERYONE ELSE.
BUT ME.
I HAVE TO BE SUCCESSFUL.
I HAVE TO BE BETTER THAN OTHERS
I HAVE TO BE THIS, I HAVE TO BE THAT.
Begging to let me off.
Never.
Not unless I get casted into no man's island.
If I disappear from the surface of the earth, nobody would notice.
I AM SO NOT SURPRISE.