Burnt Child

A burnt child.
Scared of fire.
The flames slithering towards me, while I drove my body up to a corner, legs pushing my body back frantically as if it will stretch the distance between us.
I'm afraid, I'd been burnt.

The fiery inferno,
Flame dancing within,
Down hail the needles.
The hell I gone through again and again.
I was nowhere close to death as I'm already dead,
Soul already captured.
Yet I go through this torment again and again.
My body won't rot, and my heart won't stop bleeding.
It hurts,
Then again, I endure this, deep inside, time and again, hoping it won't be so next time. I waited, for the day when I'm ridden of this pain,
Ridden of this haunting ghost that chase us down for as long as we lived,
The ghost have to be slain.
It will be,
And waiting is the key.

Why can't u stand in my heart,
And see what I see?

I'm emotional, not sensual.
I'm sensitive, sentimental.
Melancholy.
My oldest toy is 19-20 years old.
I keep what deserve to be keep,
Close to my side,
Close to my heart.

Tears fall onto my wounds,
As if my inner conscious attempts at comfort.
I forced a weak smile, telling myself, "just a little more"

**

On the way back, a couple quarreling in front of me.
About luxuries and rich. Superficial ones.
I'd wish I would tell them to stop letting stupid things like that get into their way of life.
Who the fuck cares whether KL have kate spade and coach? Just fucking get them online la?

Seriously..