It Wont Harm No One

Heyyy, since I love him so much yet unable to express it to him
I should just share it around.
Rather than waste it away.
Right?

"Bantal Peluk"

When you can't make sense of anything, and despite the sympathy and assurance you get from others, there is always that emptiness. It's like clutching air, and what you really want is someone to hold you and tell you everything is all right. And then you question Why. Why did this have to happen? Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?

When you can't find the answers from family, your friends, your shrink, you turn to God.

Even though you will not hear God speak out, and you will not have God physically embrace you and you will feel frustration in the beginning, soon you will be calmer. You are heard.

You have no one but God.

_{-I Am Muslim, Dina Zaman}

For the heart, in pain.

I Do This All The Time

I don't know if it's a normal reaction or if I'm always the one overreacting.

I've never been patient. Perhaps it's time I learnt.
Life's a test.

A Cling Wrap Over the Atmosphere

Death has never been so foreboding; it seems like there's just too much of it going around lately and it is in no way a comfort.

Even though I didn't know her at all, looking at lecturer's reactions, printed memorandums, and the cancellation of classes is a rather haunting memory.

I'm missing people and I'm getting quite scared. The two of you have never felt so far away.

AWH GAWD

I have to stop pitying myself and learn throoouuuugh the hurt and not bite back and hate humanity. AGHDAHSAJHSAJHK

I'm such a horrible person for thinking bad thoughts about people ;[

Teenage Angst

Here I anthropomorphize,
Shrouded by my despondency I snivel.
Snivel for your floccinaucinihilipilificating sentiments.
I drink your indolence like the Gatorade of lassitude.

My despondency is incarcerated by your Saint Elmo's Fire.
Your Saint Elmo's Fire of sentiments.
Such sensation is my winterizing red onion.
The red onion of sensations.

How can I abhor you if you tootsee-roll over my heart?
My abhorrence is discombobulated by your inevitable global warming.
Your inevitable global warming of winterizing sentiments.

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

This injudiciously superfluous course
of anthropomorphism.
I would scour your possums if it meant
I could see your nostrils of euphoria.

Such vehemence.
Such melancholy.
How I anthropomorphize for your nostrils of euphoria.

Flibbertigibbet.

_{Make your own Teenage Angst Poem with Teenage Angst for Beginners by DeviantKupo!}

Ignorance Was So Much Bliss, Thanks.

There will be tears.
I've no doubt.
There will be smiles, but a few.
And when the tears have run out, we'll be numb and blue.

I can't be there with you, but I can dream.
I can't be there with you, but I can dream.
I can't be there with you, but I can dream.
I can't be there with you, but I can dream.

I still dream,
dream,
dream.

-There Will Be Tears, Mr. Hudson.