The Tormented

The evening haunts, the shadows cry
Each voice inside, won’t let you by
The tears, the pain, the weary sighs,
They fill your thoughts up ev’ry night.

The sadness just won’t go away.
If spoken of it everyday.
Cylical, looks as it may
‘The scars are fresh’ yes you may say.

But how can wounds be soothed and heal?
If still, cry so much for what you feel?
Can you not stick to what is real,
That they are not of the best deal?

The evening haunts, and so it will
Should rationality be killed?
Should you face the other cheek, and sigh
Thoughts will be filled up, by and by.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Advertisement

You’ll Never Know

T’was another Friday night
You’re all gloomy, with a sigh.
My worries push to ask you why,
And then, you hugged me as you cry.

At first, he hesitates to tell,
But I knew better, he ain’t well.
A lonely boy, trapped in a cell
In grief and shame, his damp face fell.

I knew, he’s never treated right.
Arguments each and every night.
He never shared, but clear in sight –
Each scars his heart had every fight.

I comfort him with words I say,
And pray’rs I have each waking day
Were prayers that come what may,
He had a ‘friend’ that’s here to stay.

I had to tell him but he bid goodbye
He said “We’ll fix this, I have to try”
And now I sat here, with a sigh.
Again, my chance had slipped me by.

Who’s Crazy Now?

I was fond of leaving the house, and catching up to my mother’s Hemodialysis Session late at night – usually around 9:30 to 10:30 in the evening, just late enough so I can free myself of the long sitting time inside the jeep because of the Friday traffic. Also, leaving the house late at night makes me feel at ease, because whenever I look outside the jeepney window, the cool evening breeze calms me down, and sets me off into a ‘meditative’ trance while travelling to Roxas Blvd.

This time is actually no different from the previous nightly travels that I have taken. But somehow, thisjeepney that I was in, had somehow made  ponder on so much, before I went to sleep that day (so much for being so worriesome, huh?).

It was around 10 o’clock when I got to the jeepney stop, and I happen to call a jeepney to ride on. I was the third passenger on the jeepney – the first one, being the passenger beside the driver, and a guy who sat  not too far from where I was. The Air Supply tracks was definitely on a high volume (making me shout out where I was going to alight), but it didn’t matter to me much, as I as enjoying the songs being played.

As the jeepney stopped near the old Sta Ana church, an old woman, carrying a big shoulder bag rode the jeep, and sat at the seat infront of me. She looked very tired, and surprisingly, she was murmuring things to herself, and some of it, I cannot clearly understand. She seemed very hungry, as she was handing out her hand towards me (seeing that  I was eating a pack of biscuits). I gave her another pack, and she started munching on the Skyflakes that I gave her. A sudden rush of emotions came to me, as I glanced at her, and questions like that came into my mind: “Where’s her family now?” “Where is she going?” “Is she really crazy, or mentally ill?” but then, out of pity, I looked away, pretended not to be overly concerned at her condition, and drifted off with my random thoughts.

Not too far away, a group of teenagers rode the jeep. If I am not mistaken, there were 5 of them, not far from my age (but definitely younger than me). They were so rowdy inside the jeepney, shouting, laughing, and cussing each other, as if carrying no burden at all. The smell of alcohol reeked inside the jeepney, and really, it would definitely piss me off. What was more irritating, was how they kept looking at the old lady with disgust. Sneering and whispering (though, they weren’t really whispering) that she was insane, as she kept talking to herself and pretending to be looking for something inside her bag.

But deep inside, with how they were even acting out, could I even consider them as the sane ones? After how they seem to be pretty much enjoy being carefree and aloft with their own surroundings? The ones who are expected to think, and live upright lives spend their living bodies in a degrading way?