Malaysia, Under Heat... Poem by WIN VENTURA

The sun here doesn't rise —
it erupts.
Falling like fire over rooftops,
boiling air before 10 a.m.,
no mercy,
no cloud in sight.

The roads shimmer like lies,
motorbikes hum like restless bees,
and the trees?
They just stand there —
too exhausted to sway.

Sweat becomes second skin.
You don't glow,
you drip...
Even your thoughts come slow,
wrapped in humidity and sighs.

Ice coffee becomes survival.
Shade becomes salvation.
And every building's A/C
feels like a holy place.

But still beneath the relentless sky....
we walk,
we move,
we laugh,
we live —
in a furnace that feels oddly
like home..
Yet... I love Malaysia! !

✍🏽By: - WIN VENTURA