Went through some of my stuff over the weekend and tossed out two big bags of things which I had kept out of sentimental reasons. Well, it’s not that I am unsentimental now but some things are just not worth keeping. Found some of the old poems that I used to pen when I was in secondary school, very angsty and pain-ridden. Can’t blame me, I had fancied myself a melancholic and depressed poet.
Here’s one poem I wrote when I was 15 or 16.
Apart,
Torn by our pain
Without any courage
To talk things through
Alone,
Crying hard inside
Too isolated and tired
to put up a fight
Away,
All faith vanishing
This struggle against tears
I can no longer win
Aloud,
I mourn my love
Buried deep down
In my heart’s hearth
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