Chained, Yet Free


Have you ever felt chained yet free?

And have you ever felt unchained, yet you’re not free?

I have.

My passion has chained me. Writing has put its handcuffs on my hands.

But I have never felt free than what I am feeling now. 

Writing journals, writing poetry, writing manuscripts, writing here and there as if the ink got stuck on my fingers, but I don’t want to remove this ink. Perhaps this is what we feel when we are passionate about something, we are limited to this particular thing yet we don’t feel as if we are restricted.

I don’t feel suffocated.

Looking back of years ago I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t free, I was. But it felt different. I didn’t feel as if freedom was mine. I didn’t feel much alive. The life was too stagnant. Aliveness wasn’t around to be found. Even though I was among different crowds all the time, vibrant ones, but the spark in me wasn’t ignited.

I felt suffocated.

Perhaps it’s true that creativity brings life to life.

And I am glad it came to me at the right time.

“Let me breathe freedom through the ink that I spill.”


– L- 



Masks Of Mine



“I don’t forget how to scream,
it’s just that,
I am not sure if it would be heard.
I don’t forget how to laugh,
it’s just that,
I am confused sometimes,
that I laugh at things that shouldn’t be laughed at.

I would feel sad and I would laugh,
all at the same time.
I don’t forget how to smile,
as a matter of fact, I am good at it.
I smile wherever I go,
to whoever I meet,
although inside I am in chaos.

I don’t forget to express, sweethearts…
It’s just that,
those expressions are not mine,
they are just different masks that I keep on wearing.

As what I was before,
I used to scream when I was upset,
and everyone would heard my loud voice.
I used to cry when I was sad,
and everyone would comfort me.

I didn’t laugh on things that should have made me cried,
I laughed at things that were funny.
I used to smile because I wanted to spread my joys,
I didn’t smile to hide my sorrows.

And now,
all I do is just keeping the masks on.
Changing them, one after the other.

I don’t forget to express,
It’s just that…
I express my masks,
not myself anymore.”



Forever Is The Word That Doesn’t Last Forever


We know the word ‘forever’ since ages and I used to think that this word literally meant as forever. I was so naive to think that every single thing that I owned would last forever, people would be with me forever, I would be loved forever, I would love forever, and I also thought that I would live forever.

But I was wrong. Forever doesn’t stay for ever.

The moment we are born, it is a definite that we are going to die. There is goodbye in every hello. There is an end in every beginning.

This word forever has captivated me in a way that I let my forever comes alive in poetry.

“For every broken piece of my heart, it loves you right.

For every remaining breath of mine, it breathes your name.

That is how I love you.

Perhaps it is not much, but it is my forever.”


Above is one of many that I wrote which I was inspired by the word ‘forever’.

Not to let myself get delusional over this word has made me to understand things a little bit easier. Such as, when the length of a relationship doesn’t stay as per my wish, or if something/someone that I love dearly can’t stay as long as I want to, I don’t get disappointed easily.

To me it is an important not to delusion myself over this word as it could help my healing process over life disappointment(s).

But human is also known as the fool one, and I am very much a human. I don’t believe in forever,  but I do believe in poetry.

Time would let my heartbeat to stop one day, time would let my breath to be breathless one day, but my poetry stays. I don’t believe in forever, but I believe in poetry. 

“It takes poetry to forget you,

and poetry to me is…

… an eternity.”



– Wound –


“How the ink would heal the deepest wound.
As I keep chanting my mantra,
‘write out all the sorrows,
write them out,
through the words,
your wound shall be healed’.

And here I am,
spilling you everywhere.

And while I am doing so,
the stitching of the scar start to open up,
letting the wound be felt,
letting the pain of your departure,
be remembered,
all over again.

Leaving me to get caught,
into a never ending delusion,
which wound that is actually start to heal.”


– One of the poems that I wrote couple of years ago and now it can be read with my other poems on debut poetry book, “Words of Sunset”.

Don’t Love Me



“Don’t love me,
for you to want to complete me.
Don’t let me drawn into delusion that there is no beauty in the crescent.

I would wear my flaws,
as if they are the most beautiful crown.
I would let my fragmentary self as the way it is.

Never let me feel that I would always be incomplete without you.

This heart of mine,
has its own beat.
They belong to each other.
I don’t need anyone to come to me and whisper me,
to be my heartbeat,
as if I would die if nobody come to love me.

Don’t love me,
to complete me.

In my crescent,
I always am,
a full moon.”


– This poem is among my others poems on debut book “Words of Sunset”.



“How the sunlight writes its melody on my mind,
and sings it to my heart,
only the universe knows the secret behinds it.

But as long as I could hear the sound of it,
I let the day forgets the brokenness and the aches.

I let the day, dreams.”

This is the first chapter of my book, which I gave the title ‘daydreaming’.
When I wrote the poems that were included on this chapter, I took myself into my daily morning drive in which I greeted sunrise. The light smiled at me and whispered me hope that the day would be alright.
I daydreamed.
Not all my days turned alright, not even okay, but as long as I could hear the sun whispered me its melody, as long as I could daydream, I knew my days would be alright.

My book, “Words of Sunset”, is available at Amazon in Kindle and Paperback versions.



“Morning coffee, ink, papers, and thoughts which are affected by emotions of last night, or the night before, or last week; last month; last year; last decade.

I would sip the coffee, just one sip.

And there it is…

Ink starts to spill into the purity of white papers. And it flows, just like that…

Into a la la land of words.

Coffee doesn’t do the wonder, sweetheart, it doesn’t do the magic.

It is you who keep winding the wand of spell into my soul.

The spell that we all call as love.”


I Feel You The Most


When I wrote this piece, I wanted to bring out the ironic fact of life that sometimes the person whom we love could be the source of brokenness. The one whom we once fall in love with, becomes the one whom we might hate, the one who break us. It’s a sad thing, but it happens.

And that person becomes the one whom we feel the most.


Eulogy For My Soul

I never thought the word eulogy would echo inside my mind for a good period of time, until I watched the movie ‘The Faults In Our Stars’. The scene where Hazel read out her eulogy for Gus, kept playing in my head, not letting the ‘pause’ button to function well.

Reading out a eulogy at funeral is an uncommon thing to me, I never seen it in any funeral that I attended. After the famous movie of John Green, I wondered if someone would ever read an eulogy of me on my funeral. thinking that it’s not part of the tradition that I grew up in, I knew that I had to write it down for myself, and I didn’t want to just write one, but a book of poetry, a collection of eulogy poems that I dedicate to myself.

My second manuscript was born.

The process of writing them brought me into one feeling, numb. I didn’t have tears nor any sadness creeping inside me, I was just literally numbed. I realised it’s not a good thing, but I couldn’t deny that it was the only feeling I could felt.

Have I become too broken that I could no longer felt anything? Not too sure. But I knew that the soul inside me has died long ago, and I didn’t realise it. I changed, and I didn’t realise it. Or perhaps I did acknowledge it, but chose to ignore it.

Too many minds wanted to control me, dominated me, and I let it be, I let myself to please everyone. Until I felt suffocated and tried to find space that filled with fresh air of life to breathe in, but that space was never found. She searched for that space, and she was lost, and I never bothered to find her a compass.

Above everyone, I am the one who is responsible to her death. I should be the one who write her an eulogy.


-Candlelight Vigil-

“One tiny flame,
a reminder for me that a flame will always ready to be a light inside darkness,
no matter how small the flame is.

On bended knees,
I hold that flame,
in remembrance of all the petals that have fallen down from my soul.”


A Dialog


“Who has told you, that my heart is broken, all over again?”

“Your eyes invite me to the funeral of the soul that just died in there, and it pours tears heavily on its funeral.”

“Perhaps the universe knows, as the sky is pouring its ocean.”

“Perhaps, except the one who has made you broken all over again, except that one.”

(Lan // Dialog Edition)