76. The leaves are drying out.

As time passed,
it felt like it was the last.
The final blooming of the season,
and I still have no thoughts to reason.

The leaves are drying out,
I had no words to spout.
Not even as my mind whirl,
I go to the bed silently and curl.

Yet I have a strong faith,
there is no possible bait.
It’s just this season, I say.
So with this I wait for another season and stay.

I’m going to wait until the flowers bloom,
it’s a cycle, this stagnant gloom.
And I know I’m stronger than this,
the stars, the sun, and the moon give me peace.

*I’m looking at the sky all the time because it brings me to different places all at once. It’s where my dreams from day and night just prance. I stick to this reality without giving up in life, really.*



70. We leave those metaphors.

I used to write about the stars,
and people forget about the scars.
Because with dreams we feel secure,
and escaping seemed like the cure.

I was speaking about the sun,
to hide the truth of the waning fun.
I think the past was about hiding,
hiding the pains which until now sting.

When everybody sees you as okay,
I think that’s when they decide not to stay.
I felt that strength comes from within,
yet this is the loneliest I’ve ever been.

But now, I leave those metaphors.
and I drop the pretense, of course.
Yes, I was and I am not okay.
but I will fight and in this course of life, I’ll stay.

Things will fall into place eventually, one step at a time.


37. I’m sorry, my butterfly.

Do not forget.
Give peace and do not fret.
You and I both still lack.
Even in your heart, I can’t hack.

It is not okay.
Yet I wish you always stay.
Hold my hands tightly.
It’s just, “I’m sorry.”

To my heart, I want you to knock.
Even then, I wish you back.
Let’s turn back the time.
This thing we have, don’t grime.

As you hold my hand,
the gesture removes anything bland.
And as you touch my cold cheeks,
I suddenly found what I seek.

It’s you, my butterfly.
There is no goodbye.
This time I cry.
I will meet you when it is my turn to fly.


© Beast’s Butterfly

I’m sorry, my butterfly.

In life, in any essence, we feel like failures.
Let’s create more beautiful memories than destroying the moments.
In time, there’ll be peace. In time, there’ll be this little bliss we’ve always longed for.
To the butterflies of our lives, fly. To the butterflies of our lives, be free.

36. It’s a ticket from faith.

Many times you give up,
with stress you just want to stop.
But if you think with the negatives,
there’s no entrance for the positives.

You think about your prayers,
and ask for some definite answers.
These aren’t given on a haste,
and not a matter of copy and paste.

The year after is now a blur,
so the real change will just enter.
It’s a ticket from faith,
in two to three in change I will bathe.

*inspired by one of my luckiest days ever (omg I got my ticket for Bangtan’s concert)
*no photo as my aesthetical inspiration today but I asked for signs for my path & this is it

I’m decided to follow my dreams.