Thursday, 31 July 2014


He paced back and forth,
Awaiting for her to return with her Korth.
Stomach grinding and palms sweating,
He was prepared for her to execute the firing.

To his friends, he'd probably be innocent;
But by her rules, every one had been broken.
He knew there was no point in removing
The Facebook photo that he was tagged in.

Feeding his colleague that tuna sandwich 
Was seen by his girl as seducing that bitch.
He practised his usual pleadful smile,
Knowing he wouldn't have a summary trial.

It had been three years since her rule,
Since he fell for her like a stupid fool.
She had once promised freedom and democracy,
Like how governments make their voting plea.

It didn't take long to see her true colours,
To burden him with her emotional baggages.
Hottie or nottie, it didn't matter;
She hated anyone who tried to come near.

Tho' she was no better than a Nazi,
He never had the heart to flee.
He believed that her love would overpower his concerns,
Just like how Hitler loved the Germans.

Saturday, 19 July 2014


She sat in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by rows and rows of lilies. The sun shone down or her, engulfing her with a gentle warmth. As she soaked in the endless supply of Vitamin D, a light breeze swept across her face, leaving the most pleasant tingling sensation on her skin. She was serenaded by the chirping of the blue jays, and the buzzing of the honey bees. She witnessed the wonders of Mother Nature, and was in awe at the sight of the little creatures diligently working on their respective tasks. 

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath to consume all of the greatness that was surrounding her. As she opened her eyes slowly, with the most satisfied smile plastered on her face, she was greeted by the four familiar walls of her room. She was at home, the place that she so comfortably lived in ever since the day she was born. Yet, she was immediately thrown into convulsions.  How could she ever be satisfied with home after having a taste of paradise? Her mind drifted to the times when she was ever so free bathing in the sunlight. And how she was so cruelly wrenched from such a reality. A sudden surge of claustrophobia fell upon her. The walls of her room started closing in on her. She crouched into a ball, making herself as small as possible. She wrapped her arms around each other and started peeling her skin repulsively.

She screamed and bled, and screamed and bled. But even so, the pain was incomparable to what she felt inside. 

Wednesday, 16 July 2014

What ifs

Everyone begins his or her marathon at the same starting line. There are those who sprint and never grow weary. (They are the kind that you know are forever out of your league.) There are those who attempt to sprint and end up dragging their feet for the rest of the way. There are those who pace themselves in a way that's comfortable for them. And there are those who simply do not know why they are there. They end up strolling for the entire journey. I am categorised with those who do not know why they are there.

Here I am lying on my bed, in the confines of my room (my mother calls it a pigsty) when the sun is shining at it's brightest, indicating that I've been in bed for way too long. I run through the itinerary for the day in my head: wash up, have breakfast, (okay, no, brunch. Or maybe it's just lunch.) wait for dinner, go to bed. 

My usual daily routine. No wait, I forgot to add: scroll through Facebook and Instagram throughout the day, hoping that by observing other people's interesting lives, it would add some colour to my dull and mundane life. 

So yes, in summary, what I am currently preoccupied with is waiting for bedtime. I draw up my blanket over my head to avoid the glare of the sun, and unlock my iPhone. I scroll through the endless Facebook Newsfeeds. Oh, my elementary school classmate who probably wasn't as bright as I was - now a valedictorian of his college. The quiet little girl in my neighbourhood who was never willing to make new friends - now the prom queen of her high school. The chairman of my middle school's library club - now the captain of his football team. The nerd whom everyone ostracized even till high school - now a president's scholar. And me? A bum. 

I wasn't originally in the category of those who don't know why they are there. I was a sprinter; but along the way, I tripped over an obstacle and got bruised so badly that by the time I got up, everyone else was far ahead. That was when I stopped trying, that was when I no longer knew why I was even in the race. I joined the group that eventually caught up with me, those who strolled through the entire journey.

As I look through the lenses of those ahead, many "what ifs" start bubbling in my head. What if I averted the obstacle, what I picked myself up immediately, what if... What if... What if... 

And it suddenly dawns upon me that there exists a fifth group of people. The late bloomers. Those who start off directionless. They stroll and stroll, but one fine day - no one knows why, maybe they get hit by a meteorite that awakens their senses - they start sprinting. And while you, and everyone else, thinks that it's impossible for them to catch up given how far behind they are, they prove you wrong with their zeal. They catch up. They do catch up eventually. 

Suddenly, I have hope. I am not good at anything in particular, nothing that can make me sprint right away but at least I can start by jogging. I force myself out of bed and pick up the pen and paper that is hidden among the pile of I-don't-know-what. I start by doing what I think I do best. It honestly isn't great, but it is a start. I start scribbling the words that would hopefully inspire my fellow "strollers" and myself:

"Everyone begins their marathon at the same starting line. There are those who sprint and..."

Monday, 7 July 2014


Opting out was never easy,
For it was her ecstasy.
She was certain she had parted ways,
Until it slapped her right in the face.

Standing before her greatest nemesis,
She was tempted to indulge in the feast.
She turned and fled and did what was right,
But she knew a part of her had died inside. 

Sunday, 6 July 2014

Alice in Wonderland

There was a girl who lived in a chalice.
Everyone knew her, her name was Alice.
"Take me on an adventure!" She would cry out all day,
"I want to get out, please show me the way!"

"I will take you," whispered the priest,
"To the world of unknowns, will you take the risk?"
“What is it like?” She curiously asked.
“You’ll know when you come, you better be fast!”
The rainbows and sunshine, the moon and the stars,
Her dreams and visions were coming to pass.
She ran with fervour,
With pride and honour.

Another boy came up beside her, 
He took her hand and joined the endeavor.
Along the way were mystical creatures;
Some she endeared, and some never in a hundred years.

"We are here!" The priest exclaimed.
They were standing on clouds that pour forth rain.
Exploding with anticipation,
Alice looked down on God's creation.

She was taken aback and filled with trepidation,
To find out that the earth was barren.
She groaned and moaned,
But to her comfort, she wasn't alone.

She yearned to return to her mansion,
Now that she was void of passion.
Without the motivation to continue,
She was tempted to start anew.

The other creatures joined their arms together,
They pulled her in, into the circle.
Those whom she met on the journey,
She now called them "family".

She no longer cared
About what the earth shared,
For her newfound motivation
Lay in this unbreakable cohesion.

Hand in hand,
They traversed the land.
And to her surprise,
The earth was pleasant and nice.

It may have been the camaraderie,
It may have been the itinerary.
For she had adopted a whole new stand,
And believed that this was her wonderland.
© Melody Sim | All rights reserved.