a friend no more.


oh isn’t it amazing
being pushed to the back of everything

when you don’t even look at me with half an eye
and all you ever said was ” i ”

doesn’t it feel wonderful
to be waiting for your attention like a fool

you said you’d prioritise
unluckily for me those are all lies

forgetten and dumped at the bottom of things
our friendship becomes a thin string

only till when can i stay
with a friend who decided to drift away

because how do i choose
between holding on or cutting loose?



a cheater’s plea.


that’s the thing about you

a liar and a cheat

why can’t you just pick between the two

oh wait, you are what you eat.

that’s the thing about you

sleeping around; your hobby

don’t you dare claim it’s untrue

faithfulness; non existent in your vocabulary.

that’s the thing about you

coming back like you regret

acting like a damn fool

remember, to forgive is not to forget.

that’s the thing about you

asking me to close an eye

on all the wrong things you do

but how can i ?

for all this while i’ve closed two.



a man ‘never wrong’.


was it always you?

or is it the ego of yours you hold so dearly to?

when you scream, and you shout, and you get mad at just about

anything i do

was it always you?

could it be you?

or the pride of a man you treat as a powerful tool?

when you shame, and you gag, and you roll your eyes to make me

look like a fool

could it be you?

should i be blaming you?

or the lack of manners that make your attitude?

when you push, and you shove, and you threw your fists because apparently

i was the one being rude

should i be blaming you?

how can it be you?

or your personality of a stubborn mule?

when you said, and you claimed, and you protested that i was

the one who let your ego rule

so how can it be you?



losing; a relapse.


distant rather than near

yet the voices, loud and clear

confusion and fear

plays the mind, till the eyes tear.

what was this all about?

why the body so distraught?

despite battles physically fought

it was the mental self the demons sought

the depression devoured me at fourteen

the social anxiety overwhelmed me in the fifteen

the inferiority that grew at sixteen

the suicidal state of seventeen

there was a moment of recovery

but then the demons raged in fury

making the doctors in a hurry

because relapse, no longer a thought so blurry

backed against the wall

left with just a deafening call

and no one believing i was about to fall

so then, i lost it all.



perfect completion, complete perfection.


to perfectly complete each other, is completely perfect.

he’s everything she’s not. and she’s everything he’s never been.

she’s nerdy, and a sucker for cliché romance books. 

the last time he read was probably in kindergarten.

she hates anything horror. 

he loves anything that deals with the likes of Annabelle.

she’s book smart. 

he’s street smart.

she gets heartbroken. 

him, the heartbreaker.

together, they’re a hot mess.

but again, they keep each other sane. 

she sees through his bad boy demeanour.

he knows she’s not all good girl. 

little did they know

eventhough they are polar opposites,

they weren’t all too different

for they were made to love, 

and to be perfect,




censored reality.


if you could choose,
between the beautiful lie
and the harsh truth,
what would it be?

if you get to pick,
a bed of roses
or the cold hard ground,
where would you lie?

if you need to decide,
between a fairytale
or an obstacled journey,
which path would you take?

and if you need to hear,
a sweet lie
or a censored reality,
what will you listen to?

i’m pretty certain most of us want the most beautiful things in life. but in our pursuit for what we want, have we made ourselves reject the reality of this life? the truth? in this world we tend to turn off at the mere sight of what is real. we choose to bask in fantasy. and when reality comes knocking, we censor it. we try to sugarcoat it. sure, it’s not exactly a lie, but it becomes a form of censored reality. in which when uncensored, becomes too hard to handle. so maybe it is time, for us to open our eyes and realise that the real truth isn’t just a bed of roses. because even roses have thorns. and if you lie down for too long you might just be pricked.



we still have tomorrow.


sometimes we run short of time
because it flies in your happy daze

but as it drags in your despair
an hour seems to last for days

then there’s those times you wish
that the day never had to end

because when night falls
we say goodbye to the other friend

and we could only hope
that time would let us rewind

for the twenty-four hours
couldn’t be enough for moments like ours

nevertheless don’t be in sorrows
as you can always believe in tomorrows