Social or anti-social?

Excerpt: We all share the same fate. I think it’s too late to notice my worst, heckpoint. Struggling from side to side, Forcing myself to act mature, before I meet the cold eyes (Reads: unavailable)



Poem – Social or anti-social?
Photo credit: jeltovski from

Leave me alone.
I don’t like being bothered.
Don’t bother calling my phone
it won’t be answered.

I don’t know when
and I don’t know why.
Before or back then,
who cares, I am no guy.

Because guys are fearless
and they never weep.
Girls are defenseless
and they cry in their sleep.

“That’s not fair.
You are stereotyping.”
“Do I look like I care?
Do you know my heart has stopped beating?”

I don’t know when
and I don’t know why.
A lot of anger back then
and I don’t want to cry.

Some say I am straightforward,
some say I am heartless.
Should I take the step forward
to commit the meaningless?

Don’t worry, I won’t
I am not that stupid.
I have a list of Do’s and Don’ts
and I have restricted.

But does anyone care?
7 billion people in the world
insufficient resources to share.
life is like a plankton in Waterworld

Gone, no one would notice
and no one would know.
Young like a fetus
or old like a foe.

We all share the same fate.
Back to my point,
I think it’s too late
to notice my worst checkpoint.

Struggling from side to side
Forcing myself to act mature
before I meet the cold eyes
that predicts my hopeless future.

He is right
and she is not wrong.
Don’t fight
nor arguing all day long.

I can hear you
crystal clear.
I cannot hear you
because you are whispering behind my ears.

Maybe I am punished for the gossiping
during my senior years.
Maybe this is my never-ending
life in future years.

“One less gossip, one less problem for me.”
A dear friend once said.
He’s right. Look at me!
I don’t want to get out of my bed.

I can hear those words,
the sentences behind the sentences.
You know what I mean, the curse
that is never shown on people’s appearances.

“Through others, we become ourselves.”
Though it’s cruel, but it makes sense.
I am starting to hate myself
for my stupid adolescent offense.

I get it. I am not popular.
I know, I am childish.
I deserve to be a loner.
It should be a good finish.

Some say my words are analytical,
Some say I am harsh.
I don’t want to appear cruel
to anyone with a beating heart.

“Be yourself,
but not in that way.”
I am being myself
and now I am in the way?

I don’t know when
and I don’t know why.
I can listen between the lines
Does he really mean that?
Does she even care?
It’s like playing truth or dare
when a girl asks you if she’s grown fat.
Just a cliché if you tell her she’s fine.
Maybe bake her a pie
to make her joyful again.

No, I haven’t met the right one
and I couldn’t find her on the left.
Enough with the fake pun.
I should get myself a jet

so that I could boost away from the crowd.
Up in space I will not find nor see
hypocrites nor mooing cows.
Finally, I maybe free.

Freed from the sentences
and freed from the words.
Freed from the acquaintances
and freed from the world.

I liked making friends.
I tried to be outstanding.
I love making true friends
that won’t only criticize my wrongdoings.

I don’t know why
and I don’t know when.
I am lack of the supply
of care from my friends.

I can hear the sentences
I can hear their words.
I don’t like to read minds
but I can see through them.

“That’s how it is,
people are like that.”
My best friend hissed.
No solution, only the cold, harsh fact.

One less problem for me
if I have shut my mouth.
I did not say anything wrong
but I am afraid everything would go south.

Don’t say a word.
Be true to yourself,
and to yourself only.
Rather be lonely than a complete phony.

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