I was cleaning out my computer when I found a few old poems I wrote as a kid. I’m going to leave them here so I can delete them off my computer; just for laughs and memories. The majority of these were from my last year in primary school to my junior years in high school.

Now, I’ve never been a big fan of poetry, preferring full blown novel-length stories, but I remember a few melodramatic emotions that spurred me into writing some of these. It really reminds me how sensitive a teenager is to his/her environment. These are all really short because – like I said – I wasn’t big on poetry, and I just wanted maximal emotional release in as few words as possible. Don’t get the wrong idea; not all of these are about my misfortune with girls. However, you’re free to interpret them as you like. That’s the beauty of the written language. Sometimes the words are different but the emotions are the same.

Reality:

Sometimes when I wake, I feel like I’m dreaming,

And somewhere, some place, the real me is screaming.

Sometimes I wonder, if I close my eyes,

Whether or not the real me dies,

And a dream of me awakens on the other side.

Fleeting:

A haunting thought,

And wistful wish,

Of a girl I ought,

Not to miss.

Soliloquy:

She speaks and I freeze.

A hundred words crash around my head.

Quick, say something before she sees!

But there’s so much I want to say,

Like how strongly I feel when I’m with you.

But there’s just no way.

I can’t find the words; I just want to sigh.

Because you don’t even realise what

Goes through my head every time I say “Hi”.

Rose:

You showed me that love was a rose,

A passionate red that never warns,

But really, to me that just shows,

That nobody sees the thorns.

Tailor:

Sailor, sailor, so star-crossed,

You never told me I was lost.

The ocean’s black sucks all my soul,

Until I no longer know my role.

Now I wander, seeking one who might,

Aid me in my lonely plight.

So tailor, tailor, seam by seam,

Unravel this tangled heart with me.

Book: 

She smiles, he frowns.

They’re on different pages, but is it the same book?

He talks, she freezes.

There’s something too serious in his look.

She leaves, he waits.

But she doesn’t come back.

Now they’re on the same page, but it’s two different books.

Just two stories that happened to cross paths.

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