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oh flwr.

what’s in a name? that which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.



(i)
feels like you've got it all figured out when you told me you didn't want us anymore and you're leaving for malibu. my feet had to clutch the ground, begging for it to not let me go - the same way you did. because i did not want to fall - the same way i did, for you. said you're chasing your dreams, so i had to stop running because you're on another lap now and you've got no time for pit stop no more. i'm sorry that it had to come to this, you said and i said i'm sorry too. i just didn't know to whom.

(ii)
i'm sorry that it took me so long to let you hold me in your arms. i am not very good with space. my mum used to put me in a shoebox when i cried as a baby because she thought the darkness would shut me up. i ended up growing shutting people out because having people in my shoebox terrifies me as much as me leaving it.

(iii)
you loved him, didn't you? with all your heart at that. you knew it'll go down the drain yet you poured him with love and affection like a leaking pipe waiting for the plumber who would never arrive. you let him bend your definition of faith as you faithfully swallowed the lies rolling out his tongue. and you swallowed them all, love, because the truth apparently, hurts you more than pain.


p/s: i would like to end this with a line from hou lai de wo men (cause i've been watching it again and crying over it again); 
we have everything in the end, just not each other.

// zahra.
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i.
tear the wall
break the damlike the river
the hurt flows away
like the waves
the sadness washes away


ii.
you have to love in order to be loved
so i pour it all
till it overflows
doing so i fall
in a spiral so slow

i have so much love
for you, them and him
but never myself
for i wasnt as deserving


iii.
it was blurry
version of myself i thought i could improve
perception of myself i thought i could change
never really loved myself
for what its worth
neither for what its not
loss of love
loss of me
lost in words that could never be enough
to stand by these rad thoughts
of what is the use of love
if when it is lost
seems like
i was the only one losing


iv.
bila ditinggal
mulalah mencari, meratap
bila ada
lupa
alpa
biar katanya
mereka itu dunia


v.
apa guna 
menangis
melolong
jika suara dikuis
bak sampah
di lorong


// zahra.
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i dont know about you, but it took me long enough to finally realize that us, was never meant for us.

cause even after three months of your farewell, i could still see you next to me when i woke up in the morning; smell your ironwood perfume lingering in the bedroom; hear your husky velvety voice calling out for my name; and even feel your rosy lips leaving a kiss on my cheek when you bid me goodnight.

to say that i was a mess, was an understatement.

because all those tears and screams when i realised you're never going to come back and hold me dearly in your cradle like the other nights, would never do me any justice

and all those lies you told me about how everything would get better, would never make me feel any better.

and i, i would never be the same.


// zahra.
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well, i guess no one can have everything.
i must learn to celebrate when i fail.
inner growth and fortitude follow the sting,
right? won't i rise with holy wind in my sails?
yet they always seem to get what i want,
door after door flung open. why are 
the keeper of doors, who haunt
the hopeful halls of fate and desire
so partial to them, but not to me?
yes, i do feel sorry for myself—don't, brother,
pretend the bitter blanket of self-pity,
hasn't warmed your bones. it's not lovers
or fame i crave, nor even happiness, particularly.
only to be lifted, just once, above all others.

// craig morgan teicher


___________________________________________________


i, honest to god, felt this poem, to my bones. it's a rather short one, compared to the others i've read, but none had the same effect that this one did on me. 

the desperation and bitterness one felt, having to deal with rejection one after another, longing for acceptance, the others received. and i love the way she started the poem with 'well', cause i feel like using 'well' at the beginning, it almost sounds like you're already resigned to fate. that you've already came to the conclusion of whatever misery that you're put in, it will never end and you cant change a damn thing about it no more. 

eg: well, it can't be helped.

and that one thought it would be nice and fine for one to fail, as it taught you more about life and how to outsmart it, by inner growth and fortitude, it said. 

and that after all the inequity you suffered from, you would only ask for one thing, only to be held high. when you darling, deserves so much more than that.


ps: felt like doing this poetry-sharing thingy more regularly cos i've got nothing else good to do in my life heh plus, it'd be good for my degree later on!

pps: PIL stands for poetry-i-love

ppss: comment your fav!
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my friend told me that i am too nice for my own good. that one day i'm just gonna get hurt from all the kindness i've been giving away cause at some point, people are gonna be taking 'em for granted and i am gonna be left with nothing. 

i know that. 

in fact, i kinda welcomed it cause like i said, i'm not worth for anything more.

though recently i've been sick and annoyed about almost everything going on in my life. 

i've been pleasing people, catering to their needs, with lengths that i would never go to if it was for myself and i felt like, that would be it. it got to stop.

so i started off with deciding what i wanted to pursue for my degree. i was stuck in between my need to please my family and my passion in arts. i'd do anything for my family tbh but i've been living my life with my family dictating me with what i can and not do and as much as my friends keep telling me that i should be grateful cause they're looking out for me, i felt like i've been molded to always be up to par with their own expectations and i am sick and done of never getting to be satisfied with my achievements, no matter how big, just because it was not enough, for them.

what's a dean's list if it's not a four flat, per say.

so i'm dictating my life now. gonna be pursuing literature for degree this september, gonna be joining festivals and theatre, writing sappy sad poetry and stuffs like that. heh.

we all gotta start somewhere.
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depression as a stand-up comedy show
for everything about it is a joke.
for those who doesn’t have it -
they're the audience.

first day of showing - the ticket sold out
do they really care, we had our doubt
perhaps it’s only for the gram and clout

they stormed in bearing signs of lies
of what they discerned as proper and wise
guess they forgot to empathise.

backstage - we were rattled to the bone
we wanted our head to be blown
we didn’t want anything to be shown.

but calming down, we proceed to do
“it’ll break our mother’s heart”, a chant so true
so breaking our own will make do

onstage - we stood with chin held high
bare soul in hand, heavy tears in eyes
all kept inside finally vocalised

yet the hall laughed so hearty
for they see what they only wanted to see
not the cry for help, not the silent plea.

last day of showing - medics scattered around
with intention in mind to hold us down
not wanting us to further be drowned

though we’re glad being taken seriously
would they ever realize finally
it was never a show initially.

// zahra.

p/s: wrote this for my lit class. thought it would be nice to share it here

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having the mood and the feel to express whatever i'm feeling thru writing, is as hard as doing so by telling and sharing it with others.

and as much as i try and believe that i should hammer down these high walls around me, it just so happened that i always did so at the wrong time. and it drove me to keep on building and not breaking them just like i wish and hope i could.

growing up i was never the type of person who voice out things, personal things. i just felt like each of my thoughts would not be accepted as much. that it wont be considered just as important, that it's a bit too much or sort of too radical.

and somehow it nurtured me into becoming this closed off person that i've grown quite accustomed to.

but then again perhaps it was also due to my fear of not just being accepted in general. that perhaps i was too different that people wont even put efforts or consideration to figure me out. that i'm just too much of an unraveling to do. and it tires them for much easier and simpler human being is out there for their entertainment.

but i could break too.

and i need someone too.

no matter how much and many times i told myself, chanting to myself that i'd be fine like this, keeping things inside, wallowing in pain that is unbeknownst to others, i cant help but wonder if being this closed off person is worth it all, still.

if one day if i would ever grow. out of this shell-hole i used to call home.

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zahra | 20
uwu-ing my way through life by being sad and full of tears

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