The year is numbered
But I can't remember the
last surprise I had.
Guess it's only on your death day.
I know I'm blessed
I've seen the reality of foes around me.
And I'm a commodity to do away with when used finish. Despite being human.
I've soaked them
And I've re-difine them
I've dried them
And I'm ready to wear them
Them: clothes.
Like clothes,
I got my emotions stacked up
In my drawer.
Suitable for any inconveniences
But somehow sometimes
I forget to take my tie along
As to choke any truth from escaping.
Like clothes,
I wear my emotions
Sad clothes when I'm down.
Specialties for ceremony 🎑
Of the dead: Confused.
Mask off to reality
I'm riding on the edge of a cliff.
Noon times I smile and give hope
To my peers and, behave normal.
Nights: I'm hanging on
I sit and talk to myself.
Scream at the clouds
Laugh at myself for what's wrong
Correct myself based on self conscious.
Then............
I shut down to escape this block of reality.
Took the pills of dreams to relive the moments. And chuckle.
Somehow smile appears on my chin
Waking up, first thing in mind
'Another day, huh? Well......'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem