Assilem = Em

The air-condition blows autumn, The ceiling fan turbo gust, The four going sunken walls, The rock alike single bed, The night, I was gloom. The yelling child next door, The fixing sounds up floor, The leaking rotten sink drops, The angry horn busy streets, The morning, I was gloom. The office work table mess, The frustrating hit on keypad, The age’s long brain-storming, The blank stare digital screen, The afternoon, I was gloom. The moody sky fall apart, The angry thunders loudly howl, The running man around alley, The lazy steps as I march, The evening, I was gloom.

Have I create as a million fool, Or being just Your only cool? Why would I to be in rotten ways, If others could have swing the rays? Have I create by a wizard touch, Or a failure of Your lazy lush? Why is that whenever I grow my roots, If it means for me to trap my foots? Have I create solely over yesterday joy, Or to live like a future broken toy? Why is even a humble life that I hope, If is tight with an unreachable rope? Have I create to finding an answer, Or to be questions to the rest of the year? Why if it means for me to be a trouble, If would have been better as I was disable.

I do said he isn't appears as an eyes catching star, Perhaps a little fresh if you would happen catch him far. I do said he is as skinny and dark like a broom stick, Perhaps in general that shape may give people a kick. I do said he should have put more effort study hard, Perhaps he has his ways of coloured his report card. I do said he spent too much on gaming and computer, Perhaps living in a city given him less play choice either. I do said my critic on him may have as much like a data , Perhaps and perhaps it is because that lad is my kidda. Happy Birthday Kidda! :-)

As Adele songs blast in my ears, it remains an old friend of mine, that I have never contact for quite sometime, for good. Her songs often speak my mind thoroughly and that leads me like it more. Here is a song of her that I like it the most so far, named 'Someone Like You'. One of the line of the lyrics speak as; "Sometimes it lasts in love, But sometimes it hurts instead," I suppose we do walk across on same scenario before, aren't we? Anyway, for you out there, Happy Belated Birthday.

I do call her a sunny bear, Like any of those little Gummi bear. Her laughter would have be crystal clear, By simple happiness would have cheer her dear. I do call her a fierce tiger, Howl as if she is the jungle ruler. Sometimes you may just request for a differ, By her fangs noted it isn't the time to mess deeper. I do call her a shy anteater, Or rather a puppy with helpless tear. There are times she do silently utter, By the miserable, sadness or perhaps fear. I do call her a protective deer, Shelter the little one under her strong antler. You do call her grumpy and nag like an older, By means she simply wanted to protect you longer. I do call her my mother, Utmost the one and only my mommy dear. With all the emotion and flaws she do appear, By facts it is the best that I couldn't be ask further. PS :- I would said it is a belated Mother's Day gift. It would have been best to appear yesterday or even a day before, however my inspiration was never...

When I said life is good, deepen it means life is at it mild tune. The dilemma point arise as how it is to be call a life when there is no excitement and sorrow? By looking at this perspective, living monotonousness is equally as bad as those days that you wish it could be cut it out -- the bad day. Addition to that, it is even more tiring by sticking with everything that is more or less the same. Hence, for this split second, how I wish I would have to be able to walk over to the nearer shore or beach and listen to ocean beats. I always like the tune of waves hitting the shore, not to mention the cold breeze it carries. It somehow ease my nerves and the next moment I'm in all good and fresh. Back then, when I was still studying abroad, I used to travel a lot to many different shores. After all, Liverpool, being located next to Merseyside, the Irish sea is just within arm reach. But for now, being living in a concrete ocean, all it remains are photo piece. ...

So here I am seating on my own, Flipping over the old post that I used to own, Laugh as I was the very own, Sadden by the fool that I used to own, Seems nothing going to change past that has been own. So I shall fold my past into a box, Of full of emotion this Pendora box, But I shall never forget this little box, Nor I will never loosen my very Pendora box, There would be a day it would appear as joyful box. So I pack myself again, Tighten up my feeling once again, Figure to find myself again, Under those words and poem once again, And thicken myself to re-run this blog all over again.