the stretched piece of rubber band, sometimes a little over-stretched.
when would it break?
the water at 70.
when would it boil?
the unawaken fiery deep within.
when would it wake?
the tests and trials right in front
when would i fall?
the uncomfortable weather
how long can it be used repeatedly by escapists like us?

all tensed up for the match right in front but all emotionally choked up right inside. everytime i am down. i never fail to read the scrapbook made by those angels sent to me by god. i know behaviour not allowed. it even used to be a taboo. cos i'll end up just hurting myself but i'm falling deeper into this black suction call habit. i know i'm a bad girl. i know i only pray when i need to be consoled. can i look for excuses such as getting back at wad i deserved. i know the answer. and that sonner, everything will surface. something's got to go. someone got to cry. and i'll end up standing alone in the dark, seaching for that light i so longed for once again.

is this the beginning of the end...