I’m learning how to count to ten. Again.

 

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This design is based on one of the teasers for IU’s Palette album. You can find it here:¬†Palette teasers

 

I’m losing confidence as each day passes by,

Carrying a weary heart, only numbers speak sense.

One, two, three.

How much time has passed?

It feels like I’ve been staring at my bedroom wall a little too much.

 

I turned twenty the other day,

Unlike before, my eyes were dry–

Just like a stale birthday cake.

Four, five, six…

I can’t figure out which is worse.

 

Has it been a week? Or maybe two?

If anything else, I’m glad I learned to count in school.

Hurry up, my mind is turning into dust, my sanity’s on the verge of mistrust.

Seve, eight, nine.

Am I really here? Is that person really me?

 

My eyes were open again this morning,

I don’t know if I should be glad–I’m thinking too much.

Listen, dear heart, were you really this weak?

Ten. I reached ten. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?

Maybe the truth is, I’m at the beginning. The start. Zero.

Anatomy of Faces and Hues

 

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From our exhibit last February 28 about mental health awareness (Photo taken by me)

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

I close my eyes and pick a color farthest from the nightmares in my mind.

“I’m fine,” I say, as I watch myself paint another face.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

I examine the ugly scars in my body and imagine an unblemished canvas.

“I’m alright,” I whisper, choosing a red, blissful face.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

My mind immediately cries–while my hands automatically pick the brush.

“I will be okay,” I promise, as my demon wakes.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

My Mind is an Endless Zoo

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(Photo not mine. All credits belong to its proper owner)

Lips sealed,

Repressed memories,

Lone bird watching,

Fighting the urge to flee.

 

Flowing letters,

Of pieces shattered–

Feisty shark awaits,

Tearing off verses and flesh.

 

Tipsy feelings,

Paired with burnt lungs and promises.

Tigers prancing along the flames,

Leaving embers dressed as kisses.

 

Sleeping portraits,

Of wasted colors and tomorrows,

Voiceless parakeet singing,

Body hanging like a crooked comma–aiming for defeat.