I used to send you
cute stuff over the mail,
buy apology flowers,
queue on Fridays—
on a whim.

I haven’t changed,
just evolved;
like your magician
you once loved.

I no longer visit
the post office,
just like your number
feels like a stranger,
or your voice—
I couldn’t recall.

Till death do us part,
except
I made us part.

Different postcodes.
Different years.
Six years.

No more
tears.

📬

When your day
is a series of clocks ticking.
Every millisecond, minute, hour—
binary counts—disorganised clicking.

Every heart and head pound
after sips of coffee and energy drinks
high on codes and calories,
pixels, powernaps,
and flickering
imageries.

A mere reflection
of this deadline-driven age,
where waking up like this everyday
is no longer a phase.

Ad hoc palpitations,
stacked one after another
like corrupted lies and files,
until one is renamed:
"dead".

return NotFound();
// Self Not Found

📅

In a world where evil wins
Greed and hate fuel the fire
Yet in the dark night
With a sigh and a frown
Evil and hate drifts through the town
And the evil people shadows spread
Here lies one whom darkness bled.