When I look at the mirror,
I don't see my reflection.
Maybe it’s because I close my eyes
right before stepping forward to see myself
like it’s my first time meeting her.
There are just times that I can’t seem to accept the fact
that I have to commit living in this body
until I return it to whoever originally owns it.
And that, I need to suffer from its unsightliness
throughout my remaining days.
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Hey You, Stranger!
PoetrySometimes, when things seem to fall down, and when we can't seek help with picking the fallen pieces up, we tend to do it by ourselves in silence. I want for us to cease believing that we are just inconvenience for others. I wrote this book as raw a...
