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You're beautiful—like the butterflies,
With eyes that sparkled like broad daylight.
Lips dressed in cherry blossom tones—
Where I longed to taste, yet dared not own.

But I believed I held no right
To touch this fleeting, sacred sight.
So I remained—
A silent soul in quiet worship,
Watching from a gentle distance.

Your dimples shy,
As if they feared to be seen.
Your steps so light,
As though the air itself carried you.
Your hair fell over your shoulders, soft and slow—
Turning with the wind, like whispers in flow.

And oh, the way you smelled—
A field of flowers not known to this earth.
Your skin…
Softer than a newborn’s breath.
Your brows—drawn by angels, not men.
I paused,
For every word I found
Unfolded into a thousand more,
And still could not contain
The breath you stole from me.

But I never told you.
I watched in awe,
Words heavy in my throat.
And when you asked, “Why me?”
With eyes like frightened doe—
You mistook my silence as distance.
Thought I was like the rest.

But I was just…
Too stunned to speak,
While reasons kept echoing in my soul,
Like music I couldn’t translate.
 13h Emmy
Chandy
Hypnosis
Psychosis
Acts of violence
To keep things silent
Such catharsis
Such crisis
A chrysalis
Broken by their genesis
 13h Emmy
Lyra Callen
Do you really think
this is the time
to pour concrete over a seed
before it even learns
how to breathe?

You hand a teenager
a mountain of numbers,
a maze of theories,
complex things they never asked for
and call it “preparation.”
But preparation for what?
To forget themselves?
To swallow a life they didn’t choose?

Isn’t it better
to let them wander,
to stumble,
to taste freedom while it still feels new?
Isn’t it better
to let them rise in their own rhythm,
instead of chaining them to desks
and calling the chain “future”?

If degrees are so sacred,
can they not be earned later,
when the heart is steady
and the soul less bruised?
Why must the young
be forced to solve riddles
they do not care for,
when they are already solving
the riddle of themselves?

A teen is a storm,
a flame,
a garden breaking through concrete.
But you jam them,
compress them into shapes
that were never theirs.

And then you wonder
why the light goes out.
 13h Emmy
Eugene
Kay tuling lumipas ang isang taon at ngayon ay panibagong buwan na naman ng Enero.

Isang hamon para sa akin ang baguhin ang nakasanayan ko tatlong dekada na ang nakalilipas -- ang maging masaya para sa sarili ko.

At sisimulan ko ito sa paggawa ng saranggola. Kasama ko sa paggawa at pagpapalipad nito ay ang aking nakababatang kapatid na ngayon ay labingtatlong taong gulang na.

"Ang galing mo namang gumawa. Ang laki na nang ipinagbago mo a! Dati ang tamad mo, ngayon masipag ka na sa paggawa ng saranggola," napahagikgik pa ako nang tuksuhin ko siya.

"Kuya, ang pagbabago ay hindi lamang sa isang laruan o bagay nagsisimula. Dapat sa sarili rin. Kaya kung may mga bagay kang baguhin sa sarili mo, simulan mo sa libangan gaya nitong paggawa ng saranggola. Kung saan nais ng puso **** maging maligaya ay doon ka," malalim ang kaniyang tinuran pero natuwa ako dahil may katuturan ang kaniyang mga salita.

Nang matapos naming gawin ito ay umakyat na kami sa pinakamataas na parte ng aming bukid dahil doon ay malakas ang hangin.

"Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Takbo na kuya! Takbo!" ngiting-nigiti ako habang tumatakbo paakyat ng bukid upang paliparin ang saranggolang hugis bituing gawa naming. Nang nakakalipad na ito ay hindi pa rin mawala sa aking mga labi ang ngiti.

Nasabi ko na lamang sa aking sarili ang mga katagang, "Simula pa lamang ito ng pagbabago sa aking sarili. Sisikapin ko at paninindigan ko ang panata ko na maging masaya hanggang sa huling hininga ng aking buhay. Gaya ng saranggolang matayog ang lipad ay magagawa ko ring lumipad paitaas maabot lamang ang tunay na pinapangarap ko at tunay na maging maligaya habambuhay."
CHOCOLATE EXPLANATIONS

“Right...! ”
I try to explain it
with chocolates
that she(girlishly)
keeps trying to eat.

I pick a luscious
dark chocolate seahorse
And I say “Now this is...”
(and she finishes my sentence for me)

“...your hippocampus! ”
She squeals... delighted with herself.
“That’s correct! ”
I praise her
“...it’s shaped like this seahorse! ”

“And it controls
your memories of you
your “who you are”

your “how your self assembles
its sense of self
...with all its past and future mysteries! ”

“Yes...yes...that’s it!
She claps her hands
thrilled to bits

by the familiar telling
the reassurance of sounds.
And this twisted twirl of almond
with a real almond in the centre of it
“... is your amygdala! ”
She blurts out before me.
“You got it”
I smile.

“Everyone’s got one!
a seahorse & an almond
one on each side of our brain.”

“Now the almond tells you how
to respond to the things
that you’ve assembled
into a sense of self

...with the proper emotion
...the right feeling.
...whether you just like
or love it”

“Oh, I love it...I love it! ”
She almost sings.
“Now, explain it to me again! ”
I give her the finished explanations
and she eats them

with much exaggerated
mmmmming & ohhhhhing.
“I love your explanations
about what’s wrong with my thingy”
She knocks upon her head
like it was a door
to a self that she had
locked herself outside of.

Most times
she doesn’t even know
her name
or who
or what
she is.
But she loves this story of
HIPPOCAMPUS AND ITS FAITHFUL AMYGDALA

She loves
each sound
each word
each letter
each pause
of the chocolate
explanation.
 13h Emmy
jonathan
I have yet to master poetry
it's not your problem, the fault is me

my expression is meager and weak
yours sets you free, so to speak

nimble words that carry you far
and I'm nowhere near where you are

god, it's frustrating
and your pity isn't helping

seeing you work with such ease
the letters arranging as you please

desperation rising from within
don't tell me jealousy is a mortal sin

you wouldn't know, you're my opponent
that's how it starts, in that very moment

quite suddenly,
I slip into this state of mind

and that's when I wish

《 death upon all humankind 》
sometimes I catch myself being jealous of others abilities and even think, they do not deserve it.
I wish my thoughts were more kind to others.
 14h Emmy
bob fonia
well i didn t buy the large french fries cause it was not bigg enough forr mi
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