POEM: Time Capsule.

Yesterday I came across this phrase;
Music is the best time capsule.
And I couldn’t agree more.

It’s where people hide their secret feels;
of their insecurities, their mistakes,
their sadness or their despairs.

It’s where people let their wildest dreams alive;
of the one they know they can never reach,
the one they know will never come back,
the one that got away without saying goodbye.

It has the power to make us smile,
and bring us to all types of tears.
It can carry us back in time,
and inspire us to dance in the moment.
For all our happiest times, there is music.

It’s where people store their most sacred memories;
of their first love, their first kisses, their first bucket of roses,
their first heartbreaks.

I finally come to conclusion that music is dangerous,
yet tranquilizing.
It can both tear you apart and put the pieces back together
it depends on what kind of memories living inside,
and the funniest thing is no one knows but you.

Maybe it is indeed a form of escape from the cruel reality.
You’re the only one to know the very ghosts living in your playlist,
followed by certain moments that happen once in a lifetime.
Behind every favorite song, an untold story.

So, be careful who you listen the music with.
Some music is louder than the others.

How odd it is to realize that music sometimes can be a time machine,
how every rhythm and beat brings me back
to you.





POEM: Poetry


Last night I had an epiphany

About the straightforwardness of my poems.

I rarely put in complicated words.

Nor obscure phrases and sentences.

Then I realized that I was wrong in every way.

For poems are the clear expression of mixed feels.

Poems are ideas that are hard to fathom.

Feelings and emotions from the heart, powerful and fierce.

These are the doodles from the imagination,

The eternal graffiti of a broken and a beating heart.

Poetry is the thought that breathes.

The words that burn.

Poetry is the mirror of a dreamer’s soul.

Just as dissimilar and unique.

Some whole while others with a hole.

Rhymes, metaphors or any tools of writing

Aren’t what make my poems vibrantly divergent.

It is what this poet wants to write about

Through her paper and ink ’til it finally runs out

Just because

I feel.


INFP – Turbulent Feels…

I used to be an INFJ.

Recently, I have begun taking an interest in personality types again and as usual I get the result of the personalities test as Introvert. Yeah yeah same old same old. That’s what it was 2 years ago too. I for Introvert. N for Intuitive. F for feeling. J for judging. But what’s new is that now it says that I am Prospective rather than Judging. Making me an INFP-T.
Oh btw, the *air-quotes*stands for Turbulent. hehe…totally agree with that. Continue reading “INFP – Turbulent Feels…”