words uttered can never find their way back
to the place where they come from
be it a sentimental heart
a logical mind trying to reason
or the deepest pit of your guts, where courage lies
you let them go
regret will only leave you in pieces
but then, you're shattered already
cracks that show but won't break
it will leave your bodies in forms of
explosions that rain pathways
so many delicate, little branches of roads
and you'll always ends up choosing the familiar-looking one
is it because it's the easiest thing to do?

too little and too much
the milk ends up spilling
the swimming cookie now sodden
the table's stained
the soldiers from the ant's army
have licked the sticky droplets clean
the queen sat weary on her wooden throne
her tiara haphazard, she nibbled on chocolate chips
her sigh fills the room
her only declaration as a witness
she knows not anything much
but she can say this
it was never enough
adequacy is a standard of perfection
not one being can ever attain
to hope is to deny
while reality stared at you
your eyelids crinkled shut
how are you to know
if you choose to be blind
my darling,
we're all mutes
living with darkness
will not bring
the oblivion
you so obviously covets.

the very breath of pheasants perched there fogged
the lonesome crow cackled but produces no sound
their throats parched and frozen
from icicles that dripped disquiet

the still air stops the hands of father time
from turning
to signal the coming of winter

the trickling stream wept
tiny ruby-red tears
the glitters obscures
the jutting pebbles
that would scrape and wound

howls of herrings
that hover to devour
stinking sorrow-spiced
rotten corrupted scabs
that scatters over scarred ground.

the albatross croaked,
high-pitched shrieks dwarfs
the owl's softly-spoken diatribes
to spread his wings and left his nest
the owl shuddered
but watched his plight
her fathomless eyes
now blank
the surfaces bleaker
than the pond's shine that
reflects everything.

the stench of anguish spoke volumes
but the woods stay silent.

the trees have got nothing more to say
to each other

their roots now furrowed deeper
as if to seek safety
from the misery that colours
the tender sky like aurora borealis.

but snow melts
and shoots will make grass
that covers everything with green.

now to wait.
and wait.

the brown-eyed girl doesn't know
she never did


the pitch that would sound just right
or the inches that separates instead of bringing closer


the musician's soulful tunes helps her no more than
the photographer's sharp eyes


they blur the lines for her to see
but the pictures are too clouded for her to divine


cassandra, she is not
so seeks futures through portals
whose edges are rusted over and won't budge


she puts all of her strength, 
apply the most pressure she could
but herculean too, she is not
so she abandoned the doors


and turns her body to walk along
the creaky shores 


the sulky waves lapped at the beach
she listens to the immortal hymns


and began to serenade her life
into mists that soon shrouds the oceans


to join others 
to adds her colour


into the brightly swirling cauldron
of life.