I started late
Running with the world, 17 years after.
Chasing a dream
I wasnt even sure was mine.

Along the race line, I met many souls.
Some broke my heart,
Some I broke.
Like muscles torn
The more they break,
The stronger they become.
Or at least,
Thats what they say.

But is the pain really worth it?
Maybe if I blink enough,
I’ll wake up at 43.
And finally know.

They say numbers are infinite,
But have you ever met someone
Who tried to count them
And lived to tell the tale?

They saw me as a strong, independent woman.
They saw me as someone who won’t lose an argument.

But I needed to be strong.
Because I couldn’t let them see me cry
The way I always saw myself
At midnight. Alone.

It’s not about winning.
Not really.
It’s just.
Assumptions cut deeper than any mask I’ve ever worn.

Work. Family. Boyfriend?
You know I loved you the most.
Right there beside my family.
You just never heard it in words.

Work was never just work.
It was me…
Coping.
Filling the space
While you were out
Chasing the world.

But I know you love me,
Like I love you.
Because this poem,
This poem is from you,
About how I feel.

It was boredom
that led me here
to write all this.

It was boredom
that sparked a storm in my head,
a quiet brainstorm
with no one but myself.

I wish I had found this kind of boredom sooner.
Maybe seventeen years sooner.
Because hell,
this "borestorm"
might’ve carried me somewhere
worth reaching.

I wish I were as strong as a corn kernel.
Roasted, beaten, chewed alive!
yet still,
at the end of the day,
you’ll find me whole.

in your sh*t

Untouched

I used to know how to draw.
When your mind is free,
creativity flows like water.

Imagination ran wild,
translating through my hand
to sketch what my mind saw.

No school taught me how to draw.
I just drew!
from imagination.

Imagination is precious.
It’s your brain
running a kind of creative program.

Now my brain only responds with solutions
because trouble,
trouble always comes first.

Suddenly,
I don’t know how to draw.
Because my mind
is focused on solving problems.

A perk? A burden?
Of being an adult
in an adult’s world.

But is this writing
a sign my creative program still runs?
Or just a way
to cope with crowded thoughts?

As sweet as her name,
Yet one of the strongest, most determined women I've ever known.

She lives for the argument, you will never win.
A workaholic who doesn't even realize she's one.
But deep down, she is just Ayang.
Sweet, caring, and simply longing to be loved as the Ayang she truly is.

But what she doesn't see...
It's always been:
Work. Family. Boyfriend.
In that order.

I was 18 once,
Thought the world would wait for me.
Took a year off , just to grow my hair,
Sure I still had time to chase my dream.

But in the blink of an eye, I'm 33.
Working a job I never imagined I'd do.
Grateful. Happy. At peace.
Yet always wondering
What if I had walked with the world, instead of watching it pass?

I once went on a date,
maybe more
if you asked them.

To the girls,
it was something.
To the world,
it was never said.

They talked.
They guessed.
But no one knew.
No one asked.

Its a cruel thing
what people do to people.

I was a walking lesson.
A flag
that bulls
loved to run towards.

But over time,
even a majestic flag
gets torn to pieces.
Will people see it
as the broken thing it became?
Or still
just a red flag?