This uncharted terrain of life,
with feet that fret with fear and tears,
lacks control over what it's going to be.
The little heart that's forced to grow with time
hides behind hopes and smiles.
The young child who once wondered
what life is like in grey time
gets to experience the sensation for the first time.
There's no yearning for a pathway of orchid petals
to traverse this journey,
but still a hope for a bit of similarity,
with tiny thorns along the way,
to continue growing into the beautiful flower
it's supposed to be.

-

loving has its own drawbacks, isn't it?
ain't all rainbows and unicorns
nor about all joys of spring,
but rather a conquest route
of mixed emotions,
euphoria and melancholy both alike.
Three hundred sixty five days of
storm and calmness, hopes and trials,
efforts and failures, spark fizzing off and on,
it was an endless battle.
but, in spite of all the challenges
you've emerge with a warrior's heart
fighting through the rain and spring
and helped me turn my can'ts into cans
and my dreams into plans.
In the end, you, we still stand firm,
continuously fighting and still trying.
cheers to taking chances, going out of
our comfort zones and making the most of it.

long story short,
I survived, with you.

-

It's been five hundred and six days down the lane
and I still loathe the day you left.
Pain compelled me to scribble as everyone celebrates this day,
but I do not have you with me.
 
Healing isn't a linear path.
It swerves on days like this.
A bolt of emotion strikes within me.
Envy, sadness, and longing for what I know I can only wish.
 
I will forever hold you in my memories.
May the wind deliver my message
and let it be known how much I miss you badly.

-

Happy birthday to the
professional photographer of yq!

-

Happy birthday to the most
energetic Mama in the world.

-

Today,
I'm selling my little brother,
those interested, just dm me.

-

If you see a mother
loving her children
unconditionally,
a mother whose patience
like an endless river,
a mother clothe in
selflessness and strength,
a mother who's wearing
a tiara of wisdom on her head
and sword of kindness
coming out from her tongue.

Don't be surprise,
that's God's love and light
reflecting unto her.

-

The thing about
writers is that,
they bleed poetry
and stories to
express their pain.
And then,
they will read them
just to bleed again.

Unlike most people,
writers don't forget pain,
they cherish it through words.

-

Dear Chote Bear,


First of all, I don't miss you.



Love,
Até Teddy

-

It is warm, a comforting colour
that feels like a soft duvet on cold nights.

-