There's A .. (Poem)

There's an old lady singing on the streets,
From dawn to dusk, on her wheelchair she sits.
Her voice ringing out, bittersweet yet sad,
It seemed to reflect the hard life she's led.

Yet people never stop, never pause in their stride,
Too busy, too absorbed, too wrapped up in their lives.
She sings tirelessly, but they do not care,
It was like as if she was never there.

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There's a middle-aged man with his pigeon tame,
I always see them at night,
He's always there, specially to feed her
Not once did she take flight

Nothing chains her to the ground
Yet she's chosen to stay
To the man's devoted care she's bound
She'll stick with him, come what may.

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There's a young girl lying on her bed
Humming a tune, a melody she creates
Her shirt carries one word, "Originality"
Yet she's copying from all those fashion magazines

She longs to be part of the cool crowd
To be able to say proudly, to say it out loud
"This is me. This is where I belong.
This is my dream, the heart of my song."

Her desire overcomes her dream
She loses track of her heart
Nothing truly is as what they seem
She finds herself back at the start

So the girl picks herself up,
And dusts herself down,
Creating music all day long,
She realizes she's happy just the way she is,

She's finally found the heart of her song.

Do You Still ...? (Poem)

When you meet me at the start of the day,
You always tell me, "I love you"
Once, it used to make my heart sway
Now, I wonder if your words hold true

Do you still ...?

When we go out to places
Once, you used to give me silly faces
Now, your eyes are silent, they do not glow
They hide all the things you don't wish to show

Do you still ...?

When we are alone, just you and me,
You used to crinkle your nose when you smile.
This, now, I rarely get to see,
You haven't smiled like this in quite a while.

Do you still ...?

We were so young, so happy then,
Till time slipped through our fingers
And all those little, magical moments
Faded into memories replayed
Far too many times

Do you still ...

Love me.

?

Skyscrapers (Poem)

A thousand silver skyscrapers
Towering in the deep blue sky
Everyone is building more
Higher, taller ... why?

They want to reach Heaven
To find a way up there
When there’s so much chaos below
But they don't even care

They want to touch the skies
Looking for God to ask
Why is there so much pain in this world?
Why does love never seem to last?

Emptiness is what fills them
Sin is what they're made of
So they build their skyscrapers
In hope of all problems solved

A thousand silver skyscrapers
Towering in the deep blue sky
People have turned their backs on the world below
They never saw God cry

Mommy Doesn't Love Me (Short Story)

"Such a sweet little thing," a lady jogger who had been jogging through the park, now cooed at a baby with golden, curly ringlets and big, innocent blue eyes.

Flushing pink with amusement, the baby gurgled and laughed as the lady tickled her under her chin. "She'll be a beauty next time, I'm sure."

The baby's mother simply nodded and smiled slightly, as though she wasn’t surprised by the comment.

"So what's her name?"

"Lucy."

A single word filled with a mother's love.

She had been sitting on the bench beside the pram and now she turned to look at her baby with barely contained pride.

After all, it was her daughter had inherited her looks. There was no way she would not be a beauty when she grew up. No way at all ...

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A girl with pasty, pimply skin and plain features stands in front of the school toilet mirror. She is alone.

Taking in a deep breath, she smooths back her uncontrollable curls and adjusts her blouse that appears to fit her just a bit too snugly. She straightens up as much as she could, but the bulges around her shirt remain as obvious as ever.

The girl grimaces and squeezes her eyes shut.

"I'm thin, I'm thin, I'm thin," she chants the words like a mantra. Her mother had once told her that saying this in front of the mirror would work.

As long as she kept it up every single day and believed in what she was chanting.

And she was trying her best to convince herself.

She stares at her reflection. It doesn’t change at all.

"It never did," Lucy mutters to herself miserably.

She turns to exit the toilet and accidentally bumps into a small clique of girls as they were about to enter.

Dressed in outlandish clothing and black lipstick, they are one of the 'trouble' gangs that nobody dared to go near.

"Hey fat-so, watch where you’re going," one of them snarls at her.

Another pushes her back. They look like they are picking for a fight. A fight that Lucy is bound to lose.

She stumbles and holds on to the edge of the sink for support.

Help. Anyone?

The cold, hard surface does little to slow her rapidly beating heart.

The group of girls closes in on her. Lucy is trapped.

Engulfed in a blurry haze of pain and helplessness, she squeezes her eyes shut once more and submits to the beatings. A vision suddenly floods her head.

She is ten years old once more, standing in front of her mother. Crying. Begging her.

'Make them stop, Mom ... please ... make them stop! Don't you love me?'

Her mother simply looks at her with contempt in her eyes.

'Grow up. Words can’t hurt you. This would never have happened if you were thin.'

Her ten-year old self recoils at those words. Was being fat such a heinous crime?

'But they hit me too,' she sniffs, unable to help herself. 'They give me bruises and cuts.'

'Well you aren't dead, are you?'

The bitter tone implied that it probably would be better if she were dead.

In her ten year old eyes, her mother seemed to have morphed into another nasty girl sneering at her.

That was when Lucy opened her mouth. And never stopped screaming.

The vision fades away and all Lucy hears now is loud, piercing screaming.

She thought someone else was screaming at first. Until she realizes that it is her own.

The girls, having had their fun, now look at her with disgust and a little fear. They do not want to be caught by a teacher or someone else who might take pity on Lucy.

"Crazy girl," one of them says loudly, giving Lucy one last punch in the nose. It starts to bleed.

They get up, one by one, and exit the toilet, leaving Lucy to sit alone on the dirty floor, her blood mixing with tears.

The school bell rings, signaling the end of a period. English period. It is Lucy's favourite subject.

"Boring, and it's Science now," Lucy groans to herself as she makes her way back to the classroom.

I should never have gone to the loo halfway during English period, she thinks to herself bitterly.

When she enters the room, everyone stares at her sudden acquirement of fresh bruises and cuts with ill-concealed curiosity.

Lucy ignores them and sidles into her seat, dumping her English textbook back into her bag with a sigh.

Mr. Taylor strides into the classroom with a bundle of books tucked under his arm and a sheaf of papers held in his hand. He places both piles onto the desk before turning to address the class.

"Good morning class," he says briskly. "Today, I shall be teaching you on the chapter of Fats. Please turn to page 156 of your textbooks."

Uncontrolled sniggers start to go off around the classroom and Lucy doesn't even need to guess who they are directed at.

God, could this day get any worse?

She flips to the instructed page miserably and stares bleakly at the grey words dotting the paper.

Mr. Taylor walks around the classroom, his own copy held in his hand.

"Now, fats are important as they are essential in keeping you warm and provide you with the source of energy you need to get through the day. They are the subgroup of compounds known as lipids that are found in the body ..." he drones.

"Sir, not to contradict what you just said but ... what if you have too much of fats?" one of boys in the class pipes up, a knowing smirk on his face.

His name is George and he is one of the troublemakers in the class.

Lucy glares at him angrily. It is so obvious that he is doing it on purpose.

Mr. Taylor stops mid-way in his drone and frowns at the boy who dared to interrupt his lesson.

"Well, then they will have all sorts of problems such as a weak heart and high blood pressure," he snaps irritably.

"It'll also make the person look ugly, right?" George persists. "Fats are the only reason a person can become overweight, isn’t that correct?"

Mr. Taylor frowns again, so deeply that wrinkles crease his entire forehead.

"That is not true. Organs contribute to your weight too. So if you take away your organs, you will only weigh one third of your body mass."

Lucy, who had not been listening, suddenly perks up at the last line.

If you take away your organs, you will only weigh one third of your body mass.

All her life, she had tried all ways in order to lose weight.

Exercise. Diets. Puking out her food after eating.

None had worked.

Maybe the only way is to take out my organs, she thinks.

Don't be crazy, you'll die! Another side of her argues. It'll be painful.

It's the only way to be thin ... I have to be thin, I must be thin, she tells herself repeatedly.

All her sense of logic and reasoning has gone away with the first possibility of actually being thin.

Now, the only thing that occupies her mind is the overpowering need to be skinny.

That way, maybe Mommy won't look at me with such contempt. Maybe she will learn to love me.

That day, she went straight back home after school and headed for the kitchen. It was where all the knives were kept.

She took one out and gazed at it with morbid fascination. She liked the way it gleamed in the light every time she tilted it.

Just then, a door opened and slammed shut.

"Lucy?" someone called out. It was her mother.

She quickly dashed up to her bedroom and hid the knife. She would use it later.

Throughout dinner, Lucy did not talk. Her mother made a half-hearted attempt at some conversation while they were eating spaghetti and meatballs, but gradually her words trailed away into nothing.

After washing the plates, Lucy slowly walked up the stairs and went into her bedroom.

She locked the door and switched off the lights. She did not want to see what she was about to do to herself.

Grasping her way through the dark, her hand closed over the knife which she had left on the desk.

Holding the cool handle, she slowly sat down on the floor and took in a deep breath. Her hand was trembling.

For a moment, she started to realize that this was a crazy idea.

No, another voice echoed in her head, I need to be thin.

It was a need that overpowered everything. A need that had already started eating her up from inside.

When Lucy first stabbed herself, she did not feel anything. Until she plunged her hand into the slit she’d made.

Pain. At first it seemed to bring some sort of release. But the excruciating pain soon began to sear her senses.

Slowly. Agonizingly. She pulled out her intestines until they pool on the floor in a bloody pile.

It's still not enough to make me thin.

So she pulled out her liver. Then her trembling bloodied hand plunged in to take out her kidneys. Another hand reached in of its own accord and ripped out one of her lungs. Then the other.

The pain was unbearable. She was gasping now, in short breaths. She was dying.

Stop! Make it stop! a voice inside her screamed. You'll die!

So what? At least I’ll die thin. Nobody loves me anyway. Mommy doesn’t love me.

Tears flowed down. Or was it blood? She could not tell the difference.

Her beating heart was all that was left. But soon, it will stop too.

Slowly, her hand went in and curled around her heart. She barely had any strength left. The pain had consumed all her energy.

With a last cry of anguish, she ripped out her own heart and fell to the floor, dead.

Blood was everywhere, staining the floor a deep red. Darkness was a merciful cover over the macabre horror that had just taken place.

Until Lucy’s mother came looking for her and opened the door. The light from the corridor spilled into the bedroom, revealing the gory scene.

Shocked, she stared at her daughter lying on the floor, disemboweled. Then the realization hit her.

There was no way she would not be a beauty next time. No way at all ...

A mother's rejection when she realized her daughter would never weigh lesser than seventy kilograms. A young girl's need for love and acceptance from her mother.

Tell them to stop ... Mommy ... please ... don't you love me?

Collapsing to the ground, she opened her mouth.

And never stopped screaming.

Imagination (Poem)

What if air was like water and we could all fly?
What if the sea was not much different from the sky?

We'd be soaring through the air,
Like birds on wings.
I could fly around the world,
See many wondrous things.

What if gravity has no hold on us,
And we could jump ten feet in the air?
I bet everyone down on the streets,
Would gasp, stop and stare.

I could do things I couldn't do,
Be someone I couldn't be.
But.
Not when I'm still stuck on land,
Defied by boring gravity.

What if the world goes topsy turvy,
And the sky becomes the floor?
What if the ground becomes our ceiling,
And gravity thrown out the door?

I will walk on the clouds with you,
In the sunny month of May.
We will float down to outer space,
See the endless Milky Way.

I close my eyes and smile,
As I picture this in my head.
The wonders of imagination..

It's time to go to bed.