"Roses are red,
Burnt, they turn black.
If history teaches,
Kindness is often lack.
With darkness within,
They flicker, a dim light,
Leaking the goodness,
Leaving barren the bright.
In turbulent times,
They're ticking bombs,
Exploding with tremors,
Reduced to mere sums.
Like grains of sand,
In a clenched fist,
Losing or gaining,
A perpetual twist.
We, the people, are sponges,
Absorbing the vast,
Diffusing the little,
Letting moments pass.
Without knowing the weight,
We release without thought,
Aggrieved by the light,
While darkness is sought.
They boast of the bright,
Yet ignore what's been lost,
Showing no pain,
No awareness of cost.
Sometimes they are black,
From the darkness they hold,
I am heartless,
Part of the shadows untold."
I finished typing the poem on my phone as I lazily looked up to see the teacher finish her lecture. It's another lesson on Human Anatomy, haah. I put my head on the desk and while away the time as the others wonder about in the room, having merry conversations about this and that. It's another day that's slow as hell where I ask that one question like Shakespeare but to myself, to leave or not to leave. I willed myself, although hesitantly to try to bear with this boredom.
I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander, sometimes on what could have been to what could be, my life. As I am about to answer myself, I feel a tap on my shoulder and open my eyes and look over to see Jack standing with a grin. I give it a second and go back to my thoughts. Where was I, ah yes, to leave or not. I get up and start walking slowly towards the back door as I finalised my decision of skipping the later classes. I arrive back in my room, in the hostel, as I haphazardly throw my jacket and lay in the bed and sleep.