Of M

This is how it feels like to grow up as a girl
With a mixture of Bornean and Oriental beauty
She was told that she has the best of both worlds
Fair milky skin and curves that leave men weak in the knees
A sweet-looking face, wide toothy grin, she laughs like a chugging train
She has never known how it is to cry under the pouring rain
As she is used to crying in the confinement of her room
Where she can bury her face in her pillow and suppress the pain
Without turning to pretty poisons which many don’t mind to consume.

All this while, she thought she is an open book
Until someone came along and show how emotionally guarded she is
She has attitude, not to mention the looks
She is what the Malays call “kecil-kecil cili padi”; she means business
For most of the times when she isn’t letting her chopped locks down
As much as she would like to be called a beauty with brains
Her many dumb decisions made with smiles that soon turned into frowns
Reminds her that she is not one and she should probably abstain
From extreme narcissism, but how can one deny she is more of a cutie than a beauty?

She used to admire those with a disdain for God and all things divine
Until she realised that many of them are stuck-up assholes
She is in need of something to keep her in line
Something she can have faith in, not necessarily Him or other holy idols
But simply anything that keeps her going, keeps her alive
Without the urge to fondle the blade of the knife
And slowly push the tip into that soft and sweet flesh craved by men
Until crimson buds magically appear from the incisions in her veins.

She was told she was a perfect ten, an A if not an A+ in every aspect
But people still find reasons to walk away from her
Being considerably good-looking and (book)smart still leaves her in wreck
Maybe it’s how she finds it cumbersome to sugarcoat her words and let them flow the way they are
Or it’s in the way she openly expresses her resentment, how wild she can be
Either way, she is too much to handle, too passionate for most
She never keeps count of the people in her life including the absentees
As she is now making friends with the residents in the walls; the ghosts.

Astra castra, numen lumen.
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