I drink way too much tea (with three sugars might I add), I like hugs a lot & thesaurus.com happens to be my best friend. It almost seems like the older I get, the more introverted I get.

Message from Writer

You'd think that by the amount of writing I do on this website that I would have something interesting here but boy were you wrong.

Published Work

i'll start this poem by saying 'oh, baby' but in the most endearing way i can because i've finally found someone who means something to me

oh, baby.
the world spins like a top upon a spinning wheel
that i cannot stop.

          i don't want it to stop.

and i thought i'd never write poetry again - 
well this response of 
some sort was expected.

because writing poetry is for the weak and
i am not as strong as i say
i am. 

what i'd do to
let you whisk me away 
in arms so gentle.

       please tell me what to do.

       i don't want to hurt myself again.


people are half-alive, hungry for any form of spiritual experience

so she said she would buy the flowers herself
and she would avoid unnecessary niceties.
the people wouldn't mind anyway.

i haven't been sad for some time (which is an achievement in itself), but why now?

and he tries to say something new
but everything ends up sounding the same.
it's much like the dead geraniums in every neighbour's hand.

so maybe i don't understand modernism, but they didn't know they were living it, right?

so worry about your predestination
and what your god has to say about your life.
we all end up in the ground again one day.

i'll stop hoping for a better grade if they stop making it so hard.


she feels trapped for the first time in a long time, words now pouring out of her mouth at a calamitous and unstoppable rate. of course, she couldn't have possibly realised what she was doing- the roles had been reversed in the dark. there in the gloom too, she could not hold the things that had kept her numb before, gradually becoming more frantic to grasp to her sanity. i for one cannot blame the dark for what happened to her- it was her wings which were clipped too soon by the creatures who danced in her mind.  

my teacher doesn't know my name so it shouldn't matter if i don't submit my essay on time

and we'll be friends at parties 
laughing but tired.
nothing but sickly pop music to drown the looks we get

and i'll have a dream where we meet at a park bench
laughing but tired.
we'll befriend the sun who blessed us with freckles.

and i'll see you around
laughing and tired.
we'll be burned out, but it will be okay.


A Trillion Trees

the foreigner's forest

the foreigner's god lived amongst the green-
a trillion trees lushly shrouded in dew.

i once saw him whisper to the trees,
his words intertwined with magic.

they listened quietly to him,
like children at a nighttime story.

taking a breath to sigh with the wind,
they leaned in closer.


Universal Knowledge

the universal knowledge of nyctophiles

"and when the earth turned in its slumber, we breathed for the first time."



As his colleague left the room, he stood admiring the work already present on the girl. Neat, little stitches spread across her chest, the glowing thread already starting to slowly fade into her skin. The most visible part of her missing was her mind which lay fragmented on a tray nearby, similar to many he had seen before but somehow more crumbled than usual. He noticed how her tightly clenched eyes reflected the state of her mind, with each piece further from its original position than it should be, finally allowing him to understand what his colleague had meant by saying that she wasn't affected as much. He sighed, turning to unpack the contents of his briefcase on the prep table, once again trying to figure out why humans as brilliantly smart as they were, continued to stupidly hurt themselves falling for the same tricks that did indeed cause irrevocable damage.

With gloves on, he got to work, first arranging her mind...

and just like that, we met at the convenience store on George street

it's not that I don't like chocolate milk but rather the idea of how I've taken comfort in its over-sweetened aftertaste more sugary than charlie's 6th birthday cake.
i think it has to be my most favourite thing in the entire universe.

but this, here  - it's not a love story... i don't think it is. 

its just that you picked up the same chocolate milk. 


her daisy crown

her daisy crown lies humble on the top shelf,
now part of the golden antiques-
those who have collected more dust than memories.

it is now that no words rest on her tongue,
instead, her head lays heavy on her pillow;
for this time, she is not draped in royalty.

her fear of becoming this, now true,

she can't help but wonder how she fell-

her world has lost all its colour.


just another astrophile

i like the stars
and for so long,
i've watched them.

"talk to me."
they seem to like looking at me,
i've liked looking at them too.

have you ever counted them?
its hard i'll tell you,
cause i've tried.

i like the stars

and for so long,

i've loved them.


house plant

far too long
it had lived in the darkness.
twisted and writhing
sunlight had tipped its precarious balance.

oh dear.

an unearthly green
with lime lines.
it had belonged to the oracle
her magical properties adopted by it.

maybe we should water it?

while others would stretch
fingers unfurling to the sun.
it shunned away
shrinking smaller instead.

i hope it's not dead.

it had its place
it did not like it outside.
a mere house plant
meant for the inside.

15 word stories- #16

And that's when the three of us burst into tears, cursing the world we knew.

cream roses

you say it hurts.
your eyes itch more than ever;
the sneezing never stops
you want no more pain-
but I always loved your cream roses.

you threaten to kill it.
spread poison across the soil,
watching it seep into its roots
shrivelling up, colour now fading-
but I always loved your cream roses.

you like winter a lot.
i guess it' because the buds disappear,
the thorns its last prickly reminder;
it's future now mostly bleak-
but I always loved your cream roses.

you give up in spring.
packing your things stubbornly,
you know you should've killed them;
the colour teasing you tenderly now-
but I always loved your cream roses


a disappearing act

The stars were so far away that night- their luminosity dull on the canvas of the night sky. The regular flecks of gold, white and blue had disappeared- I guess a magician had stolen them for his magic show. Not even my favourite globular star cluster was its usual self, almost as if someone had flicked the switch off on its bright persona. And this time, I didn’t try to reach for them; instead, my arm hung limply by my side.

shame she doesn't believe in love

it is said that sorrow
he is the thief who steals the joy people create-
i am certain of that now. 

for it is now, no words rest on her tongue,
and her mind remains in dire need of restoration.

i tried to pray,-
of course, I did. 
but the angels told me they were too busy;
i should ask elsewhere.

its a shame she doesn't believe in love.


oh dear, you're too far

and he told me
i was too far.
his fingers grasped at the air,
flailing behind me.
for you see it was always the earth who was in love.

but with the stars,

he could never reach.


#bigcolor hickory brown skirt

I've always wanted a hickory brown skirt. 

 Mid-calf height, it would be a scandalous choice for a winter afternoon in the rain. I guess it would be kinda like the colour of a coffee when you run out of cream, end up with a slightly darker cup than you expected. Much like a trifle skirt, a nice black button up collar top should pair nicely with it, perhaps a low side bun would suffice too. 

I've always wanted a hickory brown skirt.

Although it won't suit my burnt caramel skin tone, I'll stand out at the train station- just another cute stranger you won't dare strike up a conversation with.  Sure, I'll be nervous; I don't wear heels often and this would be a one-off thing. And yeah, simple make-up would be essential- just enough to highlight a set of fictitious of high cheekbones that magically appear on the odd occasion...



hey, my love,
do you remember pyrmont?
that stone grey morning,
winter had been kind to us
the crisp chill the only reminder?

hey, my love,
do you remember pyrmont?
the hasty train ride
where our knees knocked 
and eyes fixated on the other?

hey, my love,
do you remember pyrmont?
when we got lost in the maze,
buildings on the streets towering over us
all because you knew the way?

hey, my love,
do you remember pyrmont?
because I do


her words

a rhythm
almost a rhyme.
she fuses her syllables together
yet her words are crisply clean.

she cuts some too short
and others dragged out- 
not a pattern you're used to 
regardless of how many times you hear her.


words i've needed but never heard

oh, cherie.

it will be alright.
catch the tears that fall on your sleeve-
use them to start again.

oh, cherie.

please see your beauty.
you may not trust yourself now
but you will see the truth soon.


yes, your best is enough.
they may be better
but you have it all.

honey turned sugar

everyone likes her-
honey her sweet embrace
a kind of Tuscan sun gold
alluring and still mellow.

yet they don't wait-
the bitter aftertaste
now at a poisonous end.  

but its sugar who fondles you
eyes mauve like winter clouds,
a mild, lasting warmth 
gently spreadly through your body-
her promise to never let go.


15 word stories- #15

Just a playful punch on the shoulder, their words still ring emphatically.
"No regrets, right?" 

the only way i know how

a simple lyric
as naive as a tale
his song sung too many times
"love too, is frail."

a tinted brush
it's colour immensely blue
with effort, she tries
but nothing is ever new.

an obvious step
they choose not to stare
he moves in time
to see what now lays there.

an overused keyboard
words chosen deliberately
I write the only way I know how 
truly inspired by reality.



a delicious silence on the still eve-
that's the way I welcome the new year
the refreshing calm that comes with it
almost as if its in the breeze that rustles my hair.

as good as a souvenir from a place never been,
the wonder of the approaching year turns to disenchantment. 
I simply aspire for a better year 
is that too much to ask for?


chinese restaurant

4 pm lunch at our favourite Chinese restaurant
perfectly content with the steaming bowl of rice
more dishes arrive, plated precise and neat 
on grandmother's lapis blue china.
It starts to pour outside
the wind now blowing blankets of droplets
threatening weak umbrellas-
the people like disorganised ants,
scurrying to shelter.


flats, naturals and sharps

flats, naturals and sharps.
her fingers dance gracefully across the board
the scale her worn out bible
teasing minors and messing with majors
her smooth transitions imitating only the best
landing perfect and nimble in key.



15 word stories- #14

That first delicious breath after sitting at the bottom of a pool- I adore it. 

15 word stories- #13

If the dreams you dream don't mean a single thing, what in the world does?

all i wish for is snow

Sipping sweet lukewarm cocoa,
the three mini marshmallows drown in the sweet milk.
Knitted sweaters too big for me,
the marmalade coloured wool form holes big enough for my thumb.
Colourful light bulbs dangle from the eaves,
staring at that one red bulb flickering occasionally. 
A raspy voice humming lullabies,
sweetly out of tune.
All I wish for is snow. 



early 5 o'clock and sky some form of pathetic fallacy
streaks of azure blended with cobalt blue
the peaks of the asperitas buffed powder white 
not happy but not entirely sad
a romantic kind of sorrow-
beautiful in a way.

There's always too much gravity to feel the highs.
Maybe I should just make my bed among the lows.

The sky now clears
its arctic blue beauty teasing me,
decamping and moving on to the next.
Maybe I should too.


where did all the real people go

Where did all the real people go
magnified by their auras
souls screaming for a hint
a clue
something tangible
something real
in the flood of artificial existence we call life.


Open Prompt

i was already changing

I can't help but think what you meant
preaching your gospel of poetry
telling me it wasn't my fault
telling me to stop being sorry
telling me I was a good person

A smirk spreads across my face
the words pouring out of my mouth
chanting mellifluous​
You're never going to change me
I was already changing


15 word stories- #12

Speak up loudly child, for the world is your own and you are the world's.

stitches #contestfor69

As his bony fingers pull a needle through the walls of the ripped tissue of the heart, he couldn't help but wonder how much it would hurt. The patient lay bare on the operating table in the middle of the room, every aspect of her broken mind carefully placed on a tray nearby. With eyes clenched tight, he thought that she looked braver than others before her. Once again, sympathy flood in for the girl. He had never understood why humans, as intelligent as they were, fell for the same tricks over and over again, only hurting themselves and sometimes even causing irreversible damage in the process.

With something as flimsy and intangible as memories for thread, he weaves in and out, in and out, repeatedly, determined to not break the string- the continuous repetitive pattern calming his growing nerves. Sewing hearts together was risky business; sometimes it didn't work, causing more pain than before. Many had asked him before why he did...

to turn sixteen

I don't want to grow up.
To go into the world where fits of laughter,
are childish habits that simply needed to be tamed.

I don't want to grow up.
To grow into the adult that stops smiling
especially when eye-contact with a stranger is made.

I don't want to grow up.
To see the sky and field in grey
knowing my mind is who has been betrayed.

I don't want to grow up. 
To turn sixteen 
and be the one they called the afraid.


Why I Write

why i choose to write

Like an empty ceramic pot placed on the edge of a window sill in the rain, life happens to drop experiences and thoughts into my mind -something that shouldn't be taken for granted but something I still do. It's true that I never really saw the importance of writing or how one's writing could have an effect on not only others but themselves. If you know me, you know I write when I have no time. It's a way of procrastinating especially when I know I may not even make it for the deadline for that assessment handed out at the beginning of the year. But is it time wasted when I enjoy that time (Something I ponder often due to my philosophical side)? 
However, why I choose to write is a completely different story altogether.
I choose to write to ease the burden that establishes itself on my chest during times when I just can't do it anymore.
I choose to write to...

Your World in Three Senses

tokyo's first blush

Muted tones of warm pastels filled the sky, the heads of people buried in their coats on their way to work. Peaceful city sounds fill the silent atmosphere almost as if Tokyo was still waking up. My apartment lay bare in the cool winter morning, the chill of the air creeping across my tarnished floor threatening to tickle my toes...

i stare

I hate watching you. In the corridors, with friends- a smile slapped on your face, greeting me as if I was an acquaintance. You ask how I've been with the same tasteless grin you use for everyone, laughing pathetically at the lame jokes I crack. Ticking the box of speaking to me once a week, you walk off, satisfied with one less task to do. Still, I stare, wondering why I keep doing this to myself.
I hate seeing you. Sitting only a few metres away, you clearly know I'm here. Continuing to giggle at your screen, I know it's about something better than I ever was. Yet my eyes linger looking at yours, hoping for some form of reaction. Even a smile would become the highlight of my day but nevertheless, I know that's too much to ask for. Still, I stare, wondering why I keep doing this to myself.

I hate you. The way you took me...

15 word stories- #11

If I did silence my phone, will my mind finally surrender any ideas about you?

this is how i dress

I tie my laces high-
my boots perfectly tight. 
Maybe if I stretch the laces
everything may work out right.

Buttoning up my shirt is easy
every clasp finally secured.
If I do up the top one
will I have finally matured?

Statement jewellery adorns my neck
the sparkle brighter than the sun.
Perhaps I'm overthinking this
just like everything else I've done.

Drawing out my eyeliner
black wings appear to spread
Is it possible they are too small?
Too small to fly from problems ahead?


#15WordStories winners announced!!!

Hi everyone,

So I know that these results should've been announced ages ago but of course, I have been busy procrastinating and dead tired. Alas, today seemed like the perfect day as I am dead bored which is aHHHHHHHHHHhh. Anyway, what you've all been waiting for!!!

Category 1- Nature in Humanity:
1st Place: SomeFormofWriting
Humans can be ruthless like a storm or calming like the pitter-patter of a rainfall.
Weaving both prompts into your response was such a power move- good on you! I love the metaphors and imagery. 

2nd Place: Made4Love
Her joy bubbles up, overflowing, like a stream in spring rains. He drowns in it.
Lovely pieces! The metaphor/similie in this piece is amazing. All of your pieces are beautiful in their own unique way; great job!

3rd Place: Squid Bean
The white doll, now a girl, grinned into the mirror, dropped the girl she shattered.
The vibe of your story is so cool.. I love the way...

15 word stories- #10

Having the power to love someone is giving the power for them to hurt you...  

foxmillionaire's 25 Question Q&A

SO. I haven't done something like this and tbh I've always wanted to do it lol. I try to be interesting but you can decide for yourself... This is from Foxmillionaire's 25 Question Q&A!

1. If you could swap personalities with anyone who would you swap with? 
Well... I guess one of my fav English teachers- she has this ability to make you wonder whether she actually likes you and gosh her ability to make Pride and Prejudice puns are... well... it's a universally acknowledged truth tbh.

Online, it would have to be ChairsRAwesome or Araw or Anha or any of my amazing friends cause they are all awesome and have super personalities!

2. What is your style in clothing?
 Usually, I go for skinny jeans and button up shirt and massive boots (my doc martens never fail me). I never seem to run out of statement jewellery, especially earrings which is super weird (I want more).

3 What are...

Reminder (15 word stories comp)!

Hey Ya'll,

This is just a reminder that the deadline for the 15-word stories comp will end in a week from now! Already, there have been so many amazing entries and if anyone knows me, they know I can't make a decision to save my own life let alone choose the best of these entries so yea, I have my work cut out for me. 

If you haven't already done so, please give this comp a go cause it's super easy and fun (if I do say so myself). The categories for the comp are: Nature in humanity and If I could, I would.

Of course, the main rule is that there can only be 15 words. 

There will be three winners in each category and for each category:
1st place= A follow and a review on a piece of their choice
2nd place= A review on a piece of their choice
3rd place= A follow


a yellow raincoat

Being a washed out child-prodigy definitely had its disadvantages…
 If there was one thing Matthew Bennet did not understand, it was humans. Mathematically, not a single human had followed any prediction he made, regardless of how much data he had collected, graphed and hypothesised. He had always taken into account several environmental variables, making sure that each individual of an experiment was valid and it always puzzled him that when graphed, there was no consistency in attitude or reactions, what-so-ever.
It was only when Matthew noticed the blinding yellow raincoat of a puny girl on a Wednesday morning that he observed a new orange juice stain on his indigo tie. “You’re weird[1].” she had remarked as he nearly passed, completely irked by the face Matthew made in an effort to scrape off the stain.
“What makes you say that?” he replied, now psychoanalysing the girl that stood in his way.
“Well for a start, no one...

15 word stories- #9

Please show me what it actually means to be yours- I dare to do so.


I wish I felt angry.
The way you so easily moved on,
walking on past me like I didn't exist.

I wish I felt sad.
The way you were able to forget me,
and glaze your eyes whenever you saw me.

I wish I felt at peace.
That way I could so easily move on,
walking on past you like you didn't exist.

I wish I felt happy.
That way I could forget you,
and glaze my eyes whenever I saw you.


15 word story Competition (#15wordstories)

Heyo everyoneeeeeeeee!

 So I have been on this website for some time and I just have to say everyone here is soo nice!! I've also noticed tonnes of you love competitions so here is one just for you people!

One of my most popular series (not really but okay) is my 15-word stories. Now, these are super easy to write and probably only take two minutes to think of and write. I think anyone can write these and I want to see what you can do!

I'm thinking of having two main categories: Nature in humanity and If I could, I would.
Of course, the main rule is that there can only be 15 words. It would also be great if you could include #15wordstories in your title as well as leaving a link in the comments.

There will be three winners in each category and for each category:
1st place= A follow and a review on a piece of...

15 word stories- #8

Explain how I know it's you stepping into the room already crowded with empty souls...

15 word stories- #7

"It's almost as if I miss the very experience we wanted, but never went through."

15 word stories- #6

I can't even think to hate you; you're too pretty for me to do that.


a masterpiece had been created

When God sculpted you,
He knew you would go in His gallery.
And so the angels agreed;
a masterpiece had been created.

Cheekbones chiselled high,
blush rouged right, 
meticulous hand-painted freckles,
and irises that induce opia to the eye of the viewer.

Never before had a smile been so deceiving,
hints of menace curled in your lips.
Yet the simplicity of your heart
just enough to turn men into boys again.

Every step echoes promise,
your mind beyond the now
and into the future.
A future so real.

And when I saw you,
I knew you too were in His gallery.
And I knew that the angels had agreed
a masterpiece had been created.

the art of escape- #songtitlepoem

Walking the streets of the city,
a feeling of kenosoipa arises.
We could do it all again,
just take my hand.

Swimming in the ocean,
not a soul in sight.
We could do it all again,
just take my hand.

Roaming around broken bookshops,
the shelves our kingdom.
We could do it all again,
just take my hand.

Escaping from reality,
the only art we've mastered.
And we could do it all again,
just take my hand. 

15 word stories (special)- #lifelemons

"No, I'm not saying to make lemonade but rather squeeze the life out of it."

just breathe

It's bony fingers precisely prick needles into your heart,
tears welling up in your eyes.
Suffocating, unable to breathe,
It's nothing you can control.

I could've.

They would've.

I should've.

There's nothing you can do,
It's over.

Just breathe.

15 word stories- #5

Do I still stroll on through your mind, just like you always do in mine?

the oxford comma

Who cares about the Oxford comma?
The dramas it creates 
It leaves only remains of mass destruction;
essays in a terrible state.

It's a stylistic type of writing
That is what they claim 
But when it comes to sophistication,
It's, sadly, just a bit of a shame.

The guy who happened to create it 
Herbert Spencer is the name, 
coined the phrase "survival of the fittest"
now that's something for the surname

It starts with some list,
unfortunate items line up.
Just to have a comma right at the end
come and mess it all up.

Bitterness, anger and tears
that's what's caused according to Grammarly users
this comma happens gives me nightmares
and I'm not trying to abuse her

Now I'm not trying to dis the comma
No, no, no.
Its just my perspective
It's something we need to outgrow.


15 word stories- #4

Wrapped in your arms, the world could be on fire and I wouldn't really know.

15 word stories- #3

When you hug me, the squeeze just a little tighter means the world to me.



  1. literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
Sure poetry is a vessel,
a way for teenagers to express petty angst.

Sure poetry expresses feelings,
demonstrating ideas for teachers to rip to shreds.

Sure poetry includes rhythm,
inspiring sad musicians to sing with new-found joy.

Sure poetry involves imagery,
enough to describe the very life of the writer.

But sure poetry is enough,
enough to make you see the world uniquely. 

the water in a human

Two parts hydrogen.
One part oxygen.
The globules of life. 
It's within me
and within you.

Sinking deep
into the pool of existence,
the lagoon of isolation
It's the water in a human
that makes us the same.


a downfall worthy of a king

Looming over me, the castle courtyard walls caught my breath. An overpowering stench of beer from the night before ruined the low hum of voices from the surrounding soldiers. The morning sun refused to shed any warmth onto my dewy coat, adding to the miserableness of the morning. Hoping for a distraction from the coldness of the tip of my nose, a sound so sudden and chill pierced the dampness of the moody atmosphere.

“What is that noise?”

I followed Seyton’s eyes as they turned reluctantly to meet Macbeth’s.
“It is the cry of women, my good lord,” he replied.
It was well known throughout the land that Macbeth was an ambitious man and I wasn’t too surprised when I overheard him explain to Seyton that he had forgotten what it felt like to be scared or feel fear. It’s almost funny to think that my king who once was as fragile as the very crystal he drank out of...



Orange is
It's beautiful.


Moments come and moments go
I know you desperately want to stay.
To savour what will be memories,
what will soon be the past,
and what you will forget.

I can tell you that the smiles do fade.
and so do the smells, the touches
the way you see me 
and the way I see you.

Moments come and moments go
You know I desperately want you to stay. 
To savour what will be memories 
what will soon be the past
and what I will forget.


15 word stories- #2

You make closing my heavy eyes even more easier than it should really ever be...

once again

Once again, the jar slipped.
I watched it,
tumble and roll
only to break.
Once again.

Once again, I slipped.
Watching myself fall,
into your blue eyes.
Into a terribly sweet bliss.
All over again. 


15 word stories- #1

Give me words to keep in a box, for me to hide from the world.