Facing stress. Beating stress. Releasing stress.

You can feel it, everyone can.

Everyone is roaring with excitement.

The atmosphere is hot, fire hot, searing hot.

You feel your heart pounding like a prisoner waiting to be released.

You raise your hands.

“And in this corner, weighing over 180 pounds,

the one you have all been waiting for… YOU!”

The crowd goes crazy and they scream like a singular voice.

They spin around you and you clench your teeth.

You come back to the ring and you hear silence.

You’re zoned in.

You face a formidable opponent – one that has hardly been defeated.

He smirks at you.

You stare back. Staring always does the trick.

Fear or be feared. You don’t want to lose.

[I have to win.]

Choose your weapons.

You go for your gloves. Of course you go for your gloves.

Titanium covering plated gold. Your favourite.

It signifies your prowess.

Cheers of approval made you feel amazing.

You bite your lip as you put in your mouth guard.

[You can do this]

The other guy picked a shield.

“Idiot.”

Game on.

You know you’ve lost.

Failing

It was just an alphabet and a symbol.
Font size 10. Un-bold. Un-italicised.
It was just an alphabet and a symbol
so why does it feels like the
hot curling iron on my skin,
the razor on my face, the
scalding wax on my body, the
blusher in my eyes, the
cuticle scissors across my breasts.
Why does everything in my attempt to be pretty hurt?

It was like the universe was playing a game
out of me.
It made me the girl who won the crown but
my outfit strategically chosen to hide
all the scars from its constant assault;
my makeup so flawless and thick to hide
all the shame and to fill all the emptiness.

I took a blade.
Wine dripped out of me.
Release.

Another.
I was brought to the clouds. Counted ten of them.

One more.
I was just an arm's length from Him.
I have never been so close to such a stranger.
I reached out so desperately. I needed comfort only he could ration.
But he stood there and hugged me with his eyes.
It was pure connection between the shameless and
the shameless.

My heart beating, hitting, slamming. Bang!
So much pain. How could there be so much pain.
There was no fall but I'm lying on the ground.
It was just an alphabet and a symbol.
Font size 10. Un-bold. Now red.

Horrid Pie

I probably bite off more than I could chew.

Hungry once but now sick in the tummy

by that horrid pie that was

just so delicious.

Baked with 6 core ingredients

the pie was formed,

with only a tiny dash off pepper for the kick

in my face.

The oven was grinding my teeth down

and churning my gut as I waited.

Waited.

Got to eat it while it’s hot.

It should have been a sign when a drop of saliva

sizzled into nothingness on the pan.

But I dug in so deep so fast as if I used a shovel.

Burned my fingers. Burned my tongue.

And now I’m sick.

I thought you were the doctor but you were a

“Phoney!” in disguise.

I vomited and all you did was inch away

as slow as the winds in a hurricane

and didn’t even bother saying goodbye.

"WE" was supposed to end later

I used to show off my emotions
whenever I deem fit
to let the others know
if I'm angry, sad or elate.
But this time it's different;
I'm keeping them to myself.
I'm bottling up my emotions
and leaving them on the shelf.

It's because of the embarrassment.
I don't want others to know
so they won't see the shame
that now I do own.
I've failed in this aspect
though it ain't all my fault.
But I can not be the bitch
So my mind's doing somersaults.
Cause you ain't some random one,
I picked up from elsewhere
but a sister of a dear friend
that's great beyond compare.

I can picture the image: the scene
of how it all went down;
your parents giving in
after seeing your slightest frown.
You pleading hard and whining.
Your parents on the couch
and they caved in to princess,
that I can vouch.
They said, "Send her a message
to inform her of this,"
and you ran happily to your room,
with your face gleaming bliss.

So you ended our relationship
with a simple text,
Blaming nothing of the universe
but saying it was stress.
You are bound to face it, honey,
whether you like it or not.
You are an adult taking examinations,
Not a baby in a cot.
It was taxing on me too-
your body full of medication
but it was certainly lacking in perseverance,
determination and dedication.

So we stopped our partnership
before it reached its term.
2 sessions more and probably,
this sadness I wouldn't learn.
Still, I'm glad it's over now
and best of luck to you.
I hope you buckle up real hard
before your time is due.

Perfect imperfections

There is something, I swear,

that is the size of a tic-tac.

Tiny. Real tiny, yet so powerful.

It overwhelms me and swallows

me whole as if I were nothing.

Nothing.

It wasn't supposed to hurt so bad.

It wasn't supposed to hurt at all.

But I was there and she was there.

They were there too and it happened.

The world enclosed and I was the

only one with the subtle screaming

of my heart as my hands caressed

the unique texture of my result

slip.

I had planned to be pleasantly surprised.

This was not expected. No.

"If only I had another A, I'd be

satisfied". Yea right. If I had

another A, I would have asked for

another. Now I'm left feeling beaten

down over something as small as

a tic-tac.

What am I going to do now? Dates are

passing without waiting for me. Cruel

cruel time. The independent being.

I do not want to diminish

the meaning and significance of the

Harikiri, but I feel as though I

somewhat understand how much

shame can influence you.

That much.

What I cannot comprehend is my

inability to let this go. Everything

seems so surreal. Not a dream

but a figment of my imagination.

It is coming across as if providence

doesn't exist.

This is ironic, I guess, since I'm

agnostic. I've never shied away

aggressively from religion. I believe

I've probably been waiting for

something that would convince me

totally. This isn't it.

But who am I kidding? I wouldn't

have been urged towards God

if I had done well either. I'm

in a mess.

I just wish someone would tell

me what to do, that is,

of course, in accordance to what

I want.

I know I am going against the

norm all because I am afraid.

I am afraid that I cannot make it

to the norm; that I cannot make it

in the norm; that I cannot make it

out of the norm.

And, I guess, what I really

fear is that I would be part of

the norm and un-special.

I didn't stand out this time

and so I need to rectify that

by coming back with something others do not have due to the

very fact that they were better

than me in this horrid play

of fate.

I have to go overseas and be

different. My parents do not

understand my burning need

to be apart from everyone.

The more my mum tells me about

being like the rest, the more

agitated I get by the fact that

I was going to end up as a

robot of this society.

Studying abroad gives me the

opportunity to be different from

the society there and allows me

to be differentiated from the

rest of the people that the

Singapore education system tries to

produce.

Looking at a self-portrait of myself

now. It is a little bit deformed, due to

my lack of artistic- genius genes,

and it looks a tat bit abstract.

The fake smile; the sad eyes.

The nose looks perfect though.

As a whole, that picture is indeed,

perfect.

That's what I need to be now.

I am a little bit disoriented, I admit.

However, I need to put on a smile

to hide my crying emotions and

carry on with life. I'll let my

nose lead the way; make the

necessary decisions now and

wait for the next miracle to happen.

You'll be fine

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.
You’ve been doing so well so far.”
They were assuring and envious, may be,
As they quietly race to be on par.

“Relax little dearie, you’ll be fine.
You’ll get to where you want to be.”
He was calming and firm and certain,
But only if my goal I can see.

“Don’t stress my darling, you’ll be fine.
You’re sure to work to your aim.”
They were supportive and comforting, always,
Yet may not fully comprehend my pain.

I know I’d be fine. I’ll definitely get there.
I’ll be on my heels, I’ll run.
I’ll take all your advice- goal, plan, work!
It is easier said than done.

Goodnight, my child.

One round, two.
Bubbles. Water.
Swimming.
One round, two.
My lovely three second brain.

Weird white creatures.
Big eyes that blink.
Tails that split.
Weird white creatures.
They experimented on me.

They took me out of water,
Measured my length,
Weighed my mass,
Without letting me catch my breath,
Until I could breathe in dry ‘water’.

They fed me GoodFoodAnd I turned purple.
They injected me with some fluid
And I returned back to normal
With an extra hand with toes.

They operated on me
And altered my neurons.
Global warming is currently an issue.
Everyone needs to do their part to make a change.
What am I doing in all these H2O?

When my parents went back home and the lights were off,
I stared at a blank wall as hard as I could with my lidless eyes
Counting out loud one two three, one two three, one two three,
One two three, one two three, one two three, one two three, one two three.
“Is my nightmare over?”

My Teacher's Pen

It sailed across her cheek.
A massive cruise throbbed with the waves
in the sea of flush; blush and the rush
of adrenaline set her ablaze.

Firemen came, leaving trailes of red.
Tears to the rescue! Put out the heat.
Smoke fogged up the sight; light and the tight
muscles caused wrinkles. Iron them neat.

She withers away from reality,
entrapped herself in lines of art;
in a new world driven by wind; gin and the sin
took over the power of her heart.

I’m thinking, I’m thinking!

I’m thinking, I’m thinking, I’m thinking!
Yet still not a thought in mind.
With such a short time, my brain seems blind,
Oh, none of my words are linking!

Got to get my head to make phrases,
And stanzas and verses four.
But it would be gore, to talk about war,
I feel like I’m lost in mazes!

So now I’m in a dead end again,
Trying to make this work.
No ideas do lurk, I’m definitely not perk.
Damn, I’m getting a migraine!

Come on, subjects fly to me,
Or else this poem won’t start!
With all my heart, I’m thinking but
It’s inspiration I lack, you see!

at the cashier

spa of relaxation feels really good
how fast a week just flies
plenty of rest, nothing but the best
yet there is a catch, a price

no homework today, but school tomorrow
it shall be ok hopefully
the following test, info to manifest
and of course more hardwork to complete

strucked

I feel like a tight string in a violin:
Playing chords I never knew I could;
Didn’t think I’ll ever lay hands to;
No clue such a thing would exist.

Dead-livingly stuck.

Being the nylon one, segregated from the rest.
Strung into a bassoon, wired and fixed,
Unmoving, oppressed and sick.
No leadership I’ll ever dream to manifest.

Only plently prickly simple vibrations- pluck.

something new

I’m shaking and trapped in the capsule of time,
With petrified ropes that I cannot unbind.
In total darkness, without a helping hand,
Confused, disoriented, I can’t comprehend.

Comeprehension

We laugh and play, and smile all day,
except for a wednesday in May.
We forgot our work, we did a wrong,
and made your face go long.

We want the sun back, the glow from your face,
so its english we'll (try to) ace.
So to erase all forsaken tension,
We promise to do all our comprehension.

Mathematics Stink

Mathematics, you stink,
You ought to be washed in the sink!
You shouldn’t be made,
Yes that’s what I said,
You’re no better off to be ice-lemonade!

Mathematics, you stink,
Without you my cash register still ‘ching’!
You think you’re a dove,
One that is loved,
Well, you’re not when you’re on my turf!

Mathematics, you stink,
You are a stupid Viking!
With a crazy huge hat,
And your belly so damn fat,
Just nice for my little cat to scratch!

Mathematics, you stink,
You ought to disappear with a blink!
I want to kick you in the ass,
Turn you into gas,
I just don’t know why people say you’re the best!