When you look at me.

When you look at me,

The light bestowed in your eyes, that melting gem, shining in a way that makes me blind.

I have to close my eyes. Cover them with my tired hands

Those hands have been furiously writing all these years. They have been trying hard.

They have been building a dream.

They have been searching for words they have never owned.

Tearing at them, desperately trying to hold on,

I swoop with my meagre arms, hugging those words in front of my chest like a pillow,

Dying for more, fearing for less, and loss.


I will never be like you.

I will never have what you have.


As I kneel down, defeated, I release my arms

Those words run like rebellious water

Mingled with my soft, silent tears

Those sad little things gather themselves up

Stand before me, touching my cheek, my hair, the tip of my nose

Whispering to me

Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhhhh.


My words. They say they love me.

I whisper back. I tell them I love them, too.


But I will never have what you have.

I feel sorry for myself, sort of.


I remember those years when I still believed in who I am going to be.

Right now, I’m just a mess.

I remember what I had lost.

If I told you I used to live in another world,

Eight years ago, for thirteen years. And

After those thirteen years, I had to rebuild my dream,

Relearn the language of my future profession

Fight against monsters that ripped apart

Pages and pages of my poetry

My expression

My representation

My stories

My heart?


I remember what I had gained.

I remember those wars I fought, inside of me, with me.

Never known I could be capable of this feeling.

I feel like giving up. But I can’t, because I only get one shot at life.

I feel like crying out loud, to somebody, to the sky, to God

Help me.


I don’t know who I am anymore.

I don’t know what I want anymore.

I don’t know if I can still do this.

I don’t know if I’m good enough.


I will never have what you have.




When I put my hands in my hair

Clutching at my own scalp

If I pull hard enough, maybe I can pull it apart

Touch my skull.

Feel my brain.

Run my fingers through that neurotic maze.

Trace through those jagged lines.

Find the exit of my confusion.


I wish there are better words for my depression.

I know there are.

Just not with me.


I wish there’s a way

To lose myself.

Because I’m not worthy of my dream.

Not anymore.





  1. viagra fuer die frau · November 3, 2010

    Hey very nice blog!! Man .. Beautiful .. Amazing .. I will bookmark your blog and take the feeds

  2. Carol Ann Hoel · October 18, 2010

    Struggle, struggle, struggle, and get stronger and wiser and know who God made you to be. There is only one of you. Just one. Uniquely created with a purpose. What a beautiful poem of battle. You are very talented, Kim.

  3. slpmartin · October 18, 2010

    Ah…as they say ‘hang in there’ and keep the dreams coming. 😉

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