Thursday, July 28, 2011

Amor Vincit Omnia

He kneels
At the grave of his lover
In his hand 
A single white rose

I like white roses
Why white?
Why not? Its beautiful
He thought, Not as beautiful as you

He stares serenely
But as a cool zephyr blows
He cannot hold back the harsh coughs
That wrack through his weak chest
And the blood that spill
Unwillingly from his lips

Scarlet stains
On sienna soil
Spread slowly
A river of crimson pain
The ache he can't hold back

The world is fading 
Before his dulling grey eyes
Shaking hands place
A blood stained rose
With such care on the ground

He can no longer see
Yet he whispers the words
Surely engraved there

Amor Vincit Omnia
Love Conquers All

And so he will meet 
His lover again
He lays down 
Finally at peace.


The words that come spilling out are not the words that he wants to say.

And yet he says them anyways, as he has nothing left to give her, except the words that are on his mind, the words that will last forever, and the words that he is currently not saying.

He is saying all the wrong things. He knows this, and yet he cannot stop. He cannot make them cease as they continue to plummet out of his mouth like an endless waterfall, crashing on to their conversation, onto an atmosphere that was already rocky and tense to begin with.

Her eyes are cold as ice, as she listens to his mess of words. They grow steadily darker, as his talk continues until there is no warmth left, only a freezing deliberation as she continues to hear him speak. She sits gracefully in her seat, her posture rigid, as he stands by the window, pacing back and forth, ranting and raving on. He cannot stop, and so she must listen. She is refined in her emotionless state of quiet attention. He does not need to look at her to realize that she is giving him her full concentration.

He comes to an end finally, after saying all that he doesn’t want to say, but rather feels that he must, and she stands abruptly from her seat.

Are you finished then?

He stares at her in utter bewilderment. For a moment, he had completely forgotten that she existed, that it was her that he was speaking to. He had been so bewitched by his own utterances that it had been as if he had been speaking to an empty room, and not at all a room with a person waiting patiently for him to finish.

I- Uh- Yes. Yes I am.

She looks back at him with her cold calculating gaze.

Good. For I am quite sick and tired of listening to you endless lies.

His shock is obvious as he hears her words.

They- I am not lying!

Really? Then why the hesitation? She turns away from him, back rigid. All you do is lie to me.


Enough. I am leaving.

He flinches at her tone before turning away with a decisive, stubborn tilt to his chin.

Fine. Leave then.

I will.

The door slams behind her, and belatedly, he wonders what is happening to the simplicity that they used to be. When there was nothing wrong, nothing difficult. Nothing quite so painful. When they didn’t have to try to be together, but just fit. Like two impossibly right puzzle pieces that somehow were made for each other, found and fit together. 


I don't know why I wrote this actually. I guess its just words.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009



Secrets hidden
Silent tears
Bits and pieces
Pain that sears

How can I find
The path to home
Lost in the wilderness
So far to roam

Darkness is binding
Eternity of night
Stand in the shadows
Waiting for the fight

Hating the weakness
Of the broken cry
Contradicting emotions
Now where do I lie

Treading on softly
Busting the bubble
Explosion of elation
White dust, black rubble

Parts to a puzzle
Never seem to fit
Figure out the answer
Bit by bit


Sometimes, have you ever felt like the world is closing in on you? Like the walls all around you are creeping closer and closer every time you try to pretend not to notice?

You feel like you're suffocating, and when you're finally let out of this hell, you take huge gasping breaths, as you try to stop shivering from the fear. Maybe it seems like I'm just exaggerating a little, but I kid you not, claustrophobia is bloody scary.

Why do people become claustrophobic? I have no clue. Why am I? Well I probably have a small memory that feeds this

I don't know how old I was, probabl
y six or seven. At that age, I used to have huge cat fights with my sister; all snarls and claws, and I remember once we made our mum so mad that she locked me up in the bathroom to stop us from fighting. The first time she did it, I was too angry to even notice, and I barely cared. But as it kept happening with each fight, the paranoia started creeping in. By the fourth time I was so afraid I kept hitting the door till I was let out.

I know that its quite strange - wasn't I supposed to get used to it, if it kept happening? But instead I ended up freaking out more and more.

Now I have this huge fear of small places. Bathrooms, wardrobes, lifts, you name it, I hate it. I can usually survive lifts if there's at least one mirror. A mirror really does help give the illusion of more space. I detest bathrooms with wierd locks. And wardrobes, well lets just say, there's whole new reason for that one.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


Halfterm starts tomorrow~ WoOT
But its only 5 days -__- INCLUDING the weekend -__-;
AND we're getting the halfterm reports today. Urgh.
I don't really care. (YES I DO) Really. I don't. (I DO)
Well maybe about the maths mark (ESPECIALLY)


Moving. On.


I'm going mad. Madmadmad. (I ALREADY AM)
every1 knows dat~ (aQILAH AGAIN)
Why am i saying evertthing in three's anyway?
I want sushi~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AND chocolateeeeeeeee
ALOT of chocolateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I'm highhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Aqilah has ice coffeeeeeeeeeeeeee
( i want FOOOOOOOOOOD)any1 have any?????????? thin yummy (aQILAH)


Monday, January 5, 2009

P r e v i e w

"I've seen this look before. Defeat." Sasha looked disappointed as she stared down at the crumpled figure that sat, leaning against the floor with his head in his hands.

"Just go away." He uttered the words without looking up.

"You had best be broken for a good reason, Rain." She was glaring now, arms crossed, anger radiating from her readily.

"I'm not broken." He was angry too and yet there was a desperation in his voice, that she didn't understand. "Look, Sasha," He started to speak again with a sigh. "I'm not like you okay. I don't do this because I want to. I don't kill people cause that's the only thing I know. I... I do it to survive."

"Then what's the problem here?" She looked exasperated. "Survival is an instinct. Why are you so... so upset?"

"It sickens me. That I have fallen so low, just to survive." He glanced away, so she couldn't see his face. "I... when I was small, I remember... I remember how I'd always wanted to become a doctor when I grew up." He laughed unhappily. "Look at me now. I've become the total opposite."

"And so you've given up?" Sasha sneered, her voice cool. "And what are you going to do now? Runaway like before? Leave everything you've worked so hard to create, and become a drunk beggar on the street, wallowing away in self-pity?"

"No! No... I... I..." He nearly shouted in horror, stumbling for words.

"You refuse?" Rain could feel the sadistic form of amusement in her expression, without even seeing her face. She was, most definitely smirking. "Ah... then you have finally seen the light?"

He looked up finally, glowering at her, his eyes as cold as ice. "I will not... loose everything... not now. That was just a momentary weakness. It will not happen again."

She gave him an infuriating half-smile, and then turned around quickly on her heel, walking away in her graceful quick strides that never stopped reminding him of a panther's prowl. "Is that a promise?" She spoke over her shoulder.


- t w i s t e d t r i l o g y - p a r t 2 - b e f o r e t h e s t o r m -

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Wow. I just realised how long it's been since i blogged. How sad...-_-;
Lately, I've been unbelievably depressed. Argh. A n n o y i n g.
But you know I'm tired of being depressed so I'm letting go~

Everyday, keep making the same mistakes,
Once again,I find myself in the same old place,
And I'm wondering, wondering where to turn
There's a dead end, straight ahead.
Won't you take me home?
S i l v e r s h i n e -

Sometimes I wish that I could runaway. I'm so tired of trying to survive.
I'm being depressed again aren't I? It's hard to let go....
I'll keep trying though. For now. I don't feel like giving up. Yet.

I think I'm slipping.