Arcade: Candy Machine JACKPOT!

Latest addiction:

Silly

Surrounded by wide yonder's green,

silence, serene and beautiful scene.

Gardens of flowers as far as eyes can see,

plucking stalks of flowers under the tree.

Yes,No,Yes,No,Yes,No...Yes,

petals of flowers made a mess.

Is she cheating or is she not?

I'll finish the bouquet in the pot.

Sitting alone, felt like a fool,

letting myself being used like a tool.

Time will tick and pain will go,

I will give us another go.

*Plucking flowers*

On my own~

What makes us?

Judgemental eyes,
Society-driven thoughts,
Tainted hearts,
Impaling words,
Scarring actions,
Ill-meaning agitations.

What makes us?

Chameleon masks,
Adaptive nature,
Fake goals,
Selective hearing,
Mutative memories,
Vain-driven motivation.

What makes us?

Eye candy,
Materialistic satisfaction,
Possessiveness,
Fogless future,
Achievable benchmarks,
Win against money-slavery.

What makes us?

Internal progression,
Walking tall, fist in the air;
Chest out, bulletproof;
Trust in none, hurt no more,
On my own.

Is what makes me.

Present of the future past

Have you ever gave yourself a deep thought about something?

If you are given a chance to go back in time,

To right one wrong,

to speak then, or to forever hold your peace?

What will it be?

Is it when you first said " I love you"?

Or the time when you were broken after?

The time when you finally ignored a cry for attention,

or the moment you actually opened up to them before?

That few meet ups of smiles and giggles that they put on your face,
or when they finally make your tears flow like it worths nothing?

The decision that keeps you both a stranger,
or the time when you decide to make him a stranger, once more?

Present of the future past,
you can right one wrong before it passes... Done.

Recovery

It has been a while since i updated my blog. Well, about me to be exact.

Lots of things happened since 2014. Sun rose and set, tides risen and ebbed, flowers bloomed and rot ...it is already end of March 2015.


My Work: 

Work..work..work.. 
Devours our life source from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;
And of our yesterdays born innate fools
The way to ignorant idiocracy. Out, out, paleolithic mentality!
Life's but a string puppet, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the corporate stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.

My relationship:
Two roads diverged in a passionate boulevard,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one hopeless romantic, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it was groomed and mannerly arranged;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was audacious and wanted wear;
Though uncertainty awaits all along the way,
Nor the journey whatnot the destination far or near,
And both that divergence equally lay
In love, my step had trodden black.
Oh, I left the first for another man!
knowing that how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever regret.
I shall be telling this with a delight,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a boulevard, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference






Dear you,Please bear with me.I had a colourful past.bitter and cold, betrayed and fooled, nevertheless colourful.Haha...colourful... remember how our lips looks like we're saying "i love you" when pronouncing it?
Esther Francis Swee,I love you.Fullstop. 

Twisted confession

Falling in love, helplessly descending,

Wondering how deep is this hole, continuously falling.

Endless pit, so vacant and so hollow,

How deep do you plan for me to love you?

Never ceased to gain my slightest attention,

Juggling words and strumming emotion.

Drowning me with all your love and affection.

I am only human to be seduced by such ungodly temptation.

Never had I been approached by such,

Filled with lust and alluring touch.

Nothing gentle, tender or any of its kind,

But this is the type of love I seek to find.

The twisted endearment disguised off this gentleman,

Curiosity attracted me to this mysterious sentiment.

Never a dull second or a monotonous moment,

Take me now and make me feel like a woman.

The old hut

There was an old cosy hut,
Sturdy, homey but with notable cut.
Warm, safe and full of love,
A shelter from sun, from rain above.

Dear mister hut, please stay, please stay,
I have to be somewhere, far away.
Let me go through my shedless days,
in my lego houses or foreign chalets.

Fireplace, foods and accommodation,
Satisfy me my needs at this very moment.
But deep down inside my memory pane,
That hut still hugged my comfort, my sane.

Let me be protected being distance apart,
Please stay vacant, my lovely hut.
Though you are untitled, by anonymous builder,
I am with right now, but you are my forever.

That cosy hut where I felt warm and loved,
Still empty, no caretaker, remained untouched.
Dear mister hut, please stay, please stay,
I promise to return, but.. not now,not today.