Proses
Free
I don't want to study and be a nerd. I don't want to lose my smile and be lost inside the books. I don't want to be buried inside the pile of homework. Though they said, I must study hard to be good. To be professionals like the others and so call to contribute to society.
But I find that they are weak when it comes to standing up for themselves, when it comes to failure they refuse to accept it, when it comes to love they turn it down. All they know is money and things from the books. They do not feel like a human should, they do not live like one should.
I refuse to follow a failure's path. I also refuse to be anyone but me.
I tried to live like that. But it was not me. Everyone thought I was great, but it was not me. I became myself since then. I decided to let myself go free.
Who cares about what they say? They bring themselves trouble and chain themselves down and not letting themselves go freely, soar freely in the sky. Too distressful for me.
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My Soul
My soul is lost and wandering in darkness, still the heart beats and pleads to live
My soul is lost, lost in the crowd. They are the darkness. They burn out my torch. Despair is everywhere, everything.
My soul gropes out of the crowd, the darkness that blinds my soul. All alone, I shall find my beloved, and I shall no longer feel loneliness.
My body may be just a shell, but it thrives to live. The heart beats, and pleas for its life. It wants to survive.
My body is just a shell to harbor my soul, which will crawl its way out into her arms. My loved one.
My body is dead, compared to anything within my vigilant heart, which will tell me of my loved one.
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Sunflower
He didn't like the sunlight pouring through the window. The way it did so seemed to violate his own privacy, and pierced through his heart. He collapsed onto the bed, exhausted deep inside. No, he didn't care anymore. A thought roamed into his mind, and he couldn't brush it away. A pair of lovely eyes danced flirtingly into his mind, twinkling with their own light and whispering their own stories. What was that which made it so hard for him to forget? Lying there, studying the sunlight, he couldn't find any answer.
He almost felt himself being torn apart by the anguish of the light, the light that poured onto the potted sunflowers which sat on the windowsills lavishly. He imagined that it was someone's love, showered onto him in the way that he had done for that person; he imagined that it was the magically warm touch which could take away everything, even the darkest of nights. His thoughts roamed the sky, yet he didn't feel as if he was a part of it.
Inside, his heart blossomed with that long-embedded melancholy. Inside, his mind blossomed with the thought of his beloved. He could feel himself growing on the love, on those thoughts. There was nothing else, just the love, like the sunlight, and he, like the sunflowers.
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