Haunting

What is this constant fear that lives inside me?

It feeds on me, dark and all mighty. 

My tragedy is still alive in me. 

I know many times i brush them off all too quickly.

So in the in between moments they gushes back all to me. 

I am not a graceful person, you see. 

At times i am crude , and i write painful poetry.

People’s toxin made me learn how to be toxic to people.

I broke out in laughters and silent cries at awkward situations.

I remember,

Me defying my father’s well intended wish of me going to the nearest school,

and how he never asked me how his ugly belt marks were on my skin. 

Me kissing all the people 

who don’t deserve the taste of my lips.

Me hurting people who love me

because i couldn’t give them more love.

Me inventing new scars on my skin 

in dark mornings.

Me when i realised sometimes being nice to strangers

could lead to ungratefulness in return. 

Me caught between the fight of my family

and not being able to do anything.

Me watching my mum in agony yet i was so helpless 

to get her through her earlier labyrinth of sufferings. 

Me getting nasty comments of things 

from people i loved that i never intended doing.

Me falling for someone almost a decade older than me

than realised how good he was the dealer and that he controls the game, not me. 

Me making boys cry 

more than their parents ever did. 

Me when i realised people don’t accept 

me for being me. 

I don’t miss that me. 

Right now, everything is all piece together back again. 

Yet, happiness is transient i learnt. 

I learnt that for the nasty people you met

will made way eventually for more beautiful people. 

I learnt that for you to appreciate the good times

you need the bad. 

I learnt that what’s bad for the heart

is good for my art. 

I learnt that it’s okay to live

and that if my thoughts are too loud 

i will write and write and write

till it ease all the pain

once again,