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He Died at a Young Age — Poem
He died at a young age
Ever since
I have lost my pillar of support
I have lost my life advisor
I have lost direction
He was my postman
He was my driver
He is my father
He died at 63 years old
He died at a young age
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My father was a mediocre man living a mediocre life, I won’t be able to write his biography but I can write him a poem.
As quoted from Robert Woodruff Anderson, “Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship.” My father will always live in my heart, no matter where he is.
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Is This Depression?
Suddenly
The lights go out
But you’re not scared
You’ve expected this
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day by day
You live like a robot
Not interested in your
favourite game anymore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No excitement
No expectation
Just
routine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The feeling
won’t go away
That sad somber
feeling
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You wonder
What is the meaning of life?
What is the purpose of life?
Is this depression?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yet
You can’t give up
There is a vulnerable baby
who depends on you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe
a holiday?
a visit to psychiatrist?
Maybe.
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Cancer
It is humiliating
Your name is the same as the zodiac Cancer
How is that possible?
Cancer is loyal, nurturing and loving
But you are the total opposite
How can you be loyal when you attack almost anyone?
How can you be nurturing when what you bring is only suffering?
How can you be loving when what you bring to the family is fear?
Cancer
What are you?
Why advanced medical technology
can’t conquer you?
Cancer
Go away
We do not want you here
We want our family members and friends
Note to myself
My youngest uncle has passed away due to cancer. Before him, my neighbour and my friend’s father have passed away within this year due to cancer.
There are many others who have cancer and are still surviving. It seems that the current medical technology still cannot fully conquer cancer. Hopefully, one day, cancer will be gone for good.
The Serial Killer — Part 2
You take out the gun, your hands’re trembling
You pull the trigger, you’re shocked
The person is killed
There is fear inside you
Yet, you are thrilled
You kill more and more
You are addicted
You have found the love of your life — Killing
Note to myself
Another quick production of poem without much editing. I am not a smoker. I have this idea from a Cantonese movie where a man finds the thrill of killing people after his first killing. The killing metaphor is just like the smoker’s killing.
Smokers may not realize how much the life of a non-smoker has changed. The least that a smoker can do to his / her loved ones, is not to kill them a.k.a. smokes in front of them.
The Serial Killer — Poem
Walking to the left
Walking to the right
Walking to the front
Making a U-turn
Yes, I see you
The cold-blooded serial killer
At the traffic lights
At the bus stops
Even children are not spared
And pregnant women
Yes, it is you
The cold-blooded serial killer
The S-M-O-K-E-R
Note to myself No editing. The poem is written due to hatred to smokers who have stolen the clean and fresh air. I have no place to run, it is the true feeling that I want to tell every smoker out there. My life has changed.
心目中高高的树
曾经
我为你痴狂
我为你牵挂
行动
让我有勇气
让我有魄力
爱你
就那么简单
就那么直接
真爱
是发自内心
是不知疲倦
当我
拿全级第一
拿A1
我知道–我征服了你
Note: 高高的树 = 高数 = Additional Mathematics. This is a poem to express my love for A-Maths. I spent endless nights solving questions after questions, just to discover that the more questions I solved, the more I love A-Maths. The reward is the satisfaction from within, the envy from classmates and the compliments from teachers.