Sinagtala, 5th edition (The Dawn's Official Literary Folio) by The Dawn

SINAGTALA Special Issue, 2022 Volume 74

Sadyang may misteryo sa oras na balutin ng dilim ang daigdig. Kung kailan ang buong paligid ay nakukulayan ng itim, mas kumikislap ang mga bagay na hindi natin lubos mapagtuunan ng pansin. Bilang pagbibigay pugay sa kakaibang salamangka sa tuwing siya ang namamahala sa kalangitan, sa edisyong ito, siya ang sentro at tema.

Musmos pa lamang sa gulang, isa nang natural na gawi ang tumingala’t pagmasdan ang bilugang bagay na siyang kabiyak daw ng haring araw. Ayon sa siyensya ay wala itong taglay na buhay, ngunit kakatwa na ang presensya nito’y sapat nang patnubay sa mahaba’t payapang gabi ng kadiliman. Datirati’y napapaisip tayo: bagama’t nakalagi ang buwan sa kaniyang maningning na kaharian, bakit tila sinusundan niya tayong mga taga-lupa at dinadamayan?

Paunang Salita

Sapul pa sa ating mga ninuno, ang buwan ay bukod-tanging sinasamba.

Likom ng aklat na ‘to ang mga patunay ng misteryo. Sa basbas ni Haliya, nawa’y maiabot ng mga imahe’t akda ang mga mensaheng nararapat sa mga taong nangangailangan nito. Higit sa lahat, nawa’y tulad ng buwan ay kanilang maging karamay itong aming Sinagtala.

Tagapamahalang Patnugot

Hindi lamang para sa gandang dala kundi pati na rin sa liwanag niyang nagsisilbing proteksyon kung kailan lahat ay nahihimlay. Animo’y dala pa rin ang salamangka ng nakaraan, nananatiling mahiwaga ang buwan. Sapagkat tanging sa gabing buhat niya ay doon lamang lumalabas ang mga katagang hindi mapuslit-puslit sa katirikan ng umaga. Mga palaisipan, nagkakaroon ng katuturan sa pagpatak ng hatinggabi. Mga ngiting kinubli, mararatay sa mga labi tulad ng lamig na nanggagaling sa simoy ng hangin. Mga hinanakit na nakabaong malalim, raragasa bilang mga luha na siyang sasabayan ng mga awitin ng mga kuliglig.

Mikhaela Lladones

Janae Ammugauan Features Editor

Undeniably, forced isolation allowed us to uncover hidden parts of ourselves. Finding creative ways to kill time, comforting our friends and families through the line, and digging for motivation from the crevices of our monitors and keyboards are newly found skills deemed necessary to get by, and it was something we eventually grew fond of.

As we slowly ease back to the way things were before all hell broke loose due to the pandemic, our bittersweet relationship with old, familiar environments re-emerges. The sinking feeling of going back to lonely nights in our apartments and dormitories while wallowing in the solitude and peace aloneness brings us will always be incomprehensible. We will never know for sure if we love being alone or despise the lack of social interaction.

Sinagtala’s fifth edition will take you through the phases of the moon, an epitome of the bittersweet realities of discovering your best selves in the scene of loneliness. We made it through the abrupt changes, the terrifying nightmares, and the pained quiet sobs. Light the sky up with the radiance you earned from the depths of the hardships of hell.

Foreword

Night owls who draw strength from the aurora’s glow and the stars’ sheen can testify to the joy of watching the world in silence, away from the noisy cars and busy workplaces we once knew. However, as the night turns into day, we have to return to the bright, chaotic days with our colleagues, sharing laughter and finally being able to communicate face-to-face. Is it still as good as we remember it?

With the whole world experiencing the ravaging of the pandemic, things have gone to be converted to fit virtual platforms.

SINAGTALA Special Issue, 2022 | Volume 74 SINAGTALA is the official annual literary folio of The Dawn. All rights reserved. Copyright reverts to the respective authors, artists, and photographers whose works appear in this special issue. No portion of this book may be reproduced without prior written consent from The Dawn.

Cover by Rabbi Polina Cruz Layout by Edgin Kristoffer S. Angeles ABOUT THE COVER

Commemorating a year of tears and blood that has been so long yet has passed so swift like the eastern breeze, the Sinagtala highlights the fleeting moment of the rising and setting of the sun.

Table Contentsof One day at a time Cretinous DrowningStarsShootingGloomStarsUntitledwithinmeThoughtsSexualEuphoria Paglanta sa Tinubuang Lupa ApatheticUntitledLove The Thief that Lost track of Time Tagpuan ng Dalawang KalangitanBituinTheRosePolarity On the Walk Home Hininga ng Kaibigan The Flawless and the ScarredAurora Mors Prope Est Moon and the Tide Moon and the Sun Moon and the Star MoonlightTulaWhyMirror,ConfessionsmirrorSinkingDoWeWriteSnapdragonEirrensaAtingDalawaKilitiBrightestLightIWroteyouaEulogy +260 ° (somewhere in between) Memory of Regrets The Radiance and the Breeze The Tired Bird The ‘I‘ in me Doesnt Exist Buhay MatchsticksEstudyanteStrangerLaFlamme 676665646362616059585756555452515048464545444240363433313028242321201817161514121110

Weeping ASarilingDarkTheTheYellowADateGlimmeringSaUnderToAnAbot-TanawAphroditeIllusionofExcellenceNameaPsychetheMoonlightBawatYugtoFlickerMeonaRainyDayDemainLillieswiththeMoonFallofSpringRedVelvetMilkteaNightMundoLineintheSky Take Care of your Butterflies Too Heads are Better Than One (Sometimes) Flames of a Campfire Love is a Card Trick DrowningTurnoverRequiem in Your Flood of Thoughts To More Sleepless Nights and Stained Glass Kilala ko kung sino ka Tagapag-mana ay Ikaw SaSaltyPamumukadkad ng Mayo Siguro nga’y Parang Tao ang mga Tala We Dont Talk About Trauma Good DrownedMorninginyour Aureate Bouquet of Conceited Allegories AHiraWoman’s Avenue of Hope Tindi, Babae! All the Thing I Did to be Loved PixelatedPopo Firefly Limang Tula ni Sophia On My UntitledOwn15215014614414214013613413212812612412010910810610410210098959492898684828180787774737068110112113116118119

Take a deep breath in and a sip of coffee. Close your eyes as the sun sets and the world dims. As the busy streets settle down and the traffic fades, the last car has parked, and the final shop is locked; put down your pen.

The setting sun also rises and shines, the Earth brightens, and the roads fill up.

One Day at a Time by Yce Why don’t we try again?

The stores reopen, and the vehicles leave the garage; they gain strength from a good night’s rest. And you, too, shall try again tomorrow, filled with passion and purpose, more than you’ve ever known.

When you’ve breathed your endmost sigh and wiped your last tear, remember that we can try again. Nothing is concluded, dear.

Cretinous Gloomby Kyl S. I greet the sky with teary eyes and the stars they spin before me mocking my misery shining memoriesbeautifullyhavebecome nebulous your gaze, your touch treacly nothings buried in ash your alluring scent trounced by bitterness i say cheers to the love within us cheers to the love we could not have while the alcohol has befuddled me you’re the only one i need still. 11

Shooting Stars by e.k. “Humans become stars after they die” is such a beautiful thought. With iron in our blood and stardust in our eyes, we are shooting stars. We don’t crumble beneath the weight of the world but crash and burn into Earth, reminding the universe that we exist. We are here. Always have and always will.

It’s not just a block away, she reminded herself. She wasn’t just leaving the quiet hometown where she had lived all these years. She was leaving her comfort zone. Beneath the brave look she wears, a fragile girl lies, not yet ready to face the harsh world. A child - no less. Then she remembered the reason why she had to make such a big decision.

Boarding on that empty train, she felt loneliness settling in her bones.

The clouds in a gloomy shade of gray above conveyed her mood without her realizing it soon. The bag slung on her shoulder felt like how Atlas carried the world.

The faces of those she dearly loved gave her the will to soar high. She is yet to discover how strong the winds are, but she is ready to take the risk. All for a better future ahead. Eight years in an unsure environment will eventually bear fruit. She can soon save lives, a dream come true. Glancing outside, she noticed the silver line piercing through the clouds of doubt. No significance to some but to her, It gave her hope. by Railucep

Yet when you put your hands on my face, I don’t think I need to see, For your touch feels like there’s a star within me.

Stars Within Me

by Amby Marielle Masiglat They say stars behold beauty. I don’t know if I agree. They compared it to the sea, As calming and as free. But for someone with no eyesight like me, I thought I could never feel the glee when someone sightsees.

by RBL

One day at a time, people always say.

Mistakes of yesterday, I can’t seem to escape. Tomorrow is another day, will this ever go away?

Thoughts flooding my mind, A piece of hope I can never seem to find. How can I make this go away? Be strong, people always say. I fight everyday to keep myself from going insane.

Drowning Thoughts

How can I make this go away?

This will all be over, people always say.

Sometimes I wonder if all my efforts are in vain. How can I make this go away?

Sexual Euphoria by RBL Alone at this moment, you and I Let’s cherish every second of our time Your cold lips, slowly touching mine Our naked bodies intertwined Romantic noises are all I can hear Like a sweet symphony in my ears Slowly letting go of doubts and fears Get lost in the moment we’ll cherish for years Intense motions, getting harder and harder Hearts pounding in our chests as we get closer Waves of pleasure drowning us together Hoping this euphoria can last forever 17

Tinubuang Lupa

Kalayaa’y nagmula sa dayuhan pa rin. Natutunan nating mahalin ang mga kadena Mga kadenang pumipigil sa pagkatuto’t Ito’ypag-unlad.sumpa na noon pa natin pinabayaan Walang pagkakakilanlan ngayo’y ating Sarilingpagdusahan.ambisyon na ang tanging hangad Ng mga taong noon ay soberanya lamang ang Kuro-kuronghanap walang basehan at katuturan Tila mga idolo na matanggal.MayAtsisibol.walangKungmakabayan?ItoGawiAlipinGanitopinagkakaguluhan.natingnangalangbahabangbuhay?sasarilingkalupaanaynakaayossatakbongkanluranbaangpinag-alayantinta’tdugongmgahindiparinkikilos,magandangkinabukasanangkunghindiparinsapuso’tisipan,kadenaparingnakapulupotnahindi 18

Paglanta ng Pag -ibig sa

by Mikhaela P. Lladones Pagsibol ng pag-ibig ang siyang gumising sa lupaing inangkin at mga indiong Tilatinuring.isang bulalak na kayganda Ngunit isang pangarap lang pala. Ilang siglo ng kolonyalismo, Kastila, Amerikano’t Hapon ang ating mga Nagpalinlangamo. sa matatamis na labi ng mga Gayadayuhanngbirheng

walang alam kundi ang Kasaysayanumayon. nati’y tinapon sa alab ng apoy Walang nagawa kundi tiisin ang panaghoy. Tinuruan ng pangkanluranin At ngayo’y nakalimutan na ang sariling Nangatin. magapi’y, tayo’y pinag-agawan Animo’y mga babaeng nasa bahay aliwan Muli, tayo’y sumunod sa bawat lambing Kayanila lahat ng kanila ay pawang ating tinitingala. Maraming bayani ang nangamatay Binuwis ang mga buhay para sa kalayaan Sa bandang huli, hindi tayo ang nagwagi.

But as I walk on this path, I only see my shoes Isn’t the story of love meant to be written by two?

Walking aimlessly, confused, pacing too slow Am I stupid, or is your love that shallow? As I wander in this place, I feel so hollow Your words speak love, but your actions don’t follow A tumbleweed in the middle of a crossroad Waiting for you, as I slowly lose hope A love crashing down on a slippery slope I keep asking myself, should I stay or should I go? Love by RBL 20

In this journey of romance, I started with you I felt so eager and hopeful; that much is true

Apathetic

Never

Bottled

Years

by Lhiea Nolanne P. Salcedo

Bottled feelings coming through, Like I was almost touched by you. knew how much I’d been through, But it was all worth it, just for you. have passed, and so have you. feelings stayed pure and true. I could go back to when still I had you, But I’ve lost you for so long, too.

Wish

Ten past midnight, my watch still read? None the matter! I’ll track time instead. Trust your gut Make the cut Take a risk as long as you’re not dead. Alas, I’ve been discovered! How could this be? I’ve lots of time to spare in this looting spree. Wait—what a shock! The time reads 1 o’clock. None, the matter of cleverness, will set me Masterfree. of this lovely home, ‘tis but a dream! Strange as it looks, it is not what it may seem. So just close your eyes Whilst I claim my prize And whatever you do, don’t run or SCREAM! Alas, I’ve been shot! My innards were I’veexposed!nochoice but to be forcefully reposed. The pain is infinite My demise is definite I am now subject to the consequence Markimposed.my last words, for I have committed a Acrimecrime not of robbery but of ignorance of Behold,time. what a sight On this foul, wretched night Where a fool, without a doubt, has run out of clever rhyme.

The Thief that Lost Track of Time

by Samuel Pimping

I know of a house with riches vast— Looks like it came from the early past. Behold, what a sight Especially at night Where thieves can lurk with a spell to cast. Quarter to midnight, my watch did read. Time to act while he pays no heed. Take what’s his Just doing my biz Stealth is a friend and will follow my lead. So I rushed to the door, not a sound. Easy money, all year round. Break the lock Perhaps with a rock And you’re in—unless there’s a hound.

Ten past midnight, my watch did read. Time to act and fulfill the deed. Tip the toe To make some dough And plant in the owner a cruel seed. Check the living room! Check the kitchen! Boy, am I so dreadfully smitten. Loot the gold Leave him cold Nothing personal—so it is written.

Tagpuan KalangitanDalawangng ni Mikhaela P. Lladones 24

Sabi nga nila’y kamatayan ang nagbibigay kahalagahan sa buhay. At ang buhay ay ‘di kailan man magiging tunay at masaya kung walang pag-ibig ang nananalaytay. Napapaisip lagi ang diyos kung ano nga ba talaga ang ibig sabihin ng pagmamahal. Ano ito para makapagdulot ng sari-saring emosyon? Ligaya. Kaligtasan. Kapayapaan. Ignorante man sa kasagutan, naiintindihan niya ang pakiramdam, na walang eksaktong kataga ang makakapaglarawan kapag dumadapo ang kanyang tingin sa mga buwan. Mga buwang kay ningning at nagdudulot ng sinag sa mundong nababalot ng misteryo. Hindi niya malaman kung bakit ngunit paulit-ulit siyang hinahatak pabalik ng karikitan ng mga ito. Batid ni Sidapa na maging ang mga kapuwa niya diyos ay kanyang mga kalaban. Kung kaya’t pinahayo niya ang mga ibon at mga sirena sa karagatan upang kantahan sila. Mga kantang laman ang kanyang pagpuri sa mga ito. Inutusan din niya ang mga bulaklak na paabutin ang kanilang bango sa kalangitan nang sa gayo’y masiyahan ang mga buwan. Nagpatulong din siya sa mga alitaptap na gamitin ang kanilang liwanag upang lumikha ng daan, nang siya’y matagpuan ng mga buwang labis niyang tinitingala. Hindi nagtagal ay isa sa mga buwan ang bumaba sa gabay ng mga alitaptap. Sa paglapat ng kanyang mga paa sa lupa ay isang napakagandang nilalang ang nakita ni Sidapa. Kanyang balat ay kasing-puti ng liwanag sa kalangitan

Kung minsa’y mapapatingin tayo sa kalangitan. Isa itong kaharian na namumukadkad ng liwanag sa pamamagitan ng isang araw, pitong buwan, at mga bituin na wala sinuman ang makabibilang kung ilan. Tirahang walang hangganan at kahit saan magpunta’y matatagpuan. At sa tuwing sasapit ang dilim, sa mga oras na ang mga tao’y tiyak nang nahihimbing, isang nilalang ang walang palyang pumupwesto sa tuktok ng kabundukan ng Madjaas.

Titingala nang kay tagal at laging may ngiti sa kanyang mga labi ang diyos na kalimitang kinaaayawan ng lahat. Sa hinaba-haba ng panahon na siya’y naninirahan sa mundo, walang kahit sino o anong bagay ang nakapagdulot ng kasiyahan kay Sidapa. Ang mismong kanyang presensya’y ‘di ikinalulugod ng karamihan, ‘pagkat siya ang sumusukat sa buhay ng mga mortal na ‘di tulad nilang mga diyos ay tumatanda at nadadapuan ng karamdaman. Hindi na niya mabilang pa ang ilang beses na tinakpan niya ang kanyang mga tainga sa tuwing may naghihinaing sa kanilang sinasapit sa buhay. Nagdurugo rin ang kanyang puso sa tuwing may buhay na naman siyang kailangang sunduin at ihatid sa susunod na pagkabuhay.

at kaniyang wangis ay tila walang kapantay. Agad na nagpakilala ang binata bilang si Bulan, pawang may magiliw na tingin sa diyos na siyang nanunuyo sa kaniya. Walang oras na sinayang si Sidapa para ambunan siya ng mga romantikong kanta at mga regalong kaiinggitan pati ng mga engkatada’t bathaluman. Hindi rin naman maitatanggi ni Bulan na sa bawat gabing ang mga mundo nila’y nagkakatagpo, unti-unting nahuhulog ang kalooban niyang dati’y mga bituin pa ang kapiling. Sa pagsibol ng pag-ibig sa pagitan ng dalawang diyos, kasaria’y ‘di naging problema bagkus pag-ibig lamang ang solusyon. Distansya ng dalawang mundo’y hinamak maipagtagpo lamang ang kanilang mga palad. Walang ano pa man ang hadlang noon ‘di tulad ngayong moderno na ang panahon. Wala liban sa Bakunawang nangakong hindi titigil hangga’t hindi napupunta sa kaniyang kalamnan ang pitong buwan. Lumipas ang mga gabi at sa tuwing titingalang muli si Sidapa sa kalangitan ay nababawasan ang mga buwang dati’y hile-hilerang nababanaag. Matinding kaba at takot ang naramdaman nito para sa irog nitong ‘di nais iwan ang mga kasamahan. Sa paglamlam ng liwanag na noo’y maitatambal sa haring araw ay nakita itong pagkakataon ni Bakunawa upang kainin ang isa pa sa mga natitirang buwan - si Bulan. ‘Di lingid sa kaalaman ng lahat ang pagtatangi ni Bakunawa sa mga buwan. Gayunpaman, napapatanong sa kanyang isipan si Bulan habang hiniintay ang kaniyang nalalapit na pagkawala. Maaari nga bang humantong dito ang Handapag-ibig?man na angkinin kasama ang kaniyang mga kapuwa buwan ay laking pagpapasalamat niya nang iligtas sila ni Sidapa. Nang bumalik sa lungga nito si Bakunawa ay dali-daling hinagkan ni Bulan ang kaniyang pinakamamahal, baon ang mga panibagong katanungan. Ganito nga ba ang magmahal? Handa kang ibuwis ang iyong buhay para siya’y ‘di mawalay? Kalaunan, si Bulan naman ang gumawa ng malaking pagpapasya na tuluyan nang manirahan kasama ng diyos ng kamatayan at tinali ang kani-kanilang tadhana sa isa’t isa. Sa pagkakataon na ito, may isang bukod tangi na yumakap nang tunay kay Sidapa na laging kinatatakutan at nilalayuan, at may nag-iisa namang nilisan ang lupa upang abutin si Bulan na kay taas sa kalangitan. Natagpuan nila ang isa’t isa. Ang pagmamahal nila ang nagtagpo sa dalawang kalangitan. 27

Bituin ni Mikhaela P. Lladones 28

Hiling niya’y maging isang pulis, Nang sa gayo’y mga krimen ay malitis.

Pamilya niya’y kasing dami ng numero sa orasan, Pagkain ay isang beses lamang niya makamtan, Sa isang barong-barong, si Juan ay nakatingala, Titig ay nasa bituing tanging ilaw ng tahanan nila.

Paano pa aasa kung wala ng pag-asa, Para sa’yo ang bayang paglilingkuran, Kapag nagipit, kasamaan na lang ba ang makakapitan? Sa puntong iyon, Kanyang napagtanto. Ang bituing kanyang laging pinagmamasdan, Isang bala pa lang sa kanya’y papatay.

Nagbabakasakaling pati kahirapa’y magapi, Pagpasok sa paalaran ay kanyang sinubok din. ‘Di nagtagal siya’y sumuko’t nanghina, Katawa’y ‘di matiis ang tinging mapangkutya, Isip di maunawaan kung ba’t siya nilalayuan, Pag-asa ba’y sa mataas na lipunan lang mahahanap? Ngunit minsa’y hindi sarili ang kalaban, Kundi ang mundong kay bilis at walang kasing rahas. Buong buhay, paghihirap lang ang kakilala, Sa abenida, malilit na pakete’y naging kaibigan niya. Ibinenta nang masugid, Nagkaroon ng kitang pambili ng pagkain. Masama man, ano pa ang magagawa? Pag-asa’y kay lamlam para sa isang Juan. Pulis na kanya’y dating iniidolo, Ngayo’y iniiwasan, palayo at patakbo, Ang pangarap na dati’y hangad niya makamtan, Nabaon na sa limot, para sa pangangailangan. Kada gabi’y may paghihinayang siya.

Sa isang abenida, siya’y matatagpuan. Si Juan na walang muwang ngunit may nakikita. Mga mata niya’y saksi sa kasalatan, Kasalatang ni isa’y walang may pakialam.

Have you ever loved a rose? With its thorns attacking you but still, you’ve Bleedingoverdosed.‘til death with your love, Blurry visions start to appear like fog. The roots of the memories, Fading away in bliss, But I still remember the day you gave the rose to me; Like there’s no other woman you’ll ever see. Our romance grows naturally; With its petals opening to a new valley, Blooming one by one with a new adventure, But started to wither with this creature. Staring blankly at this empty space, Hoping you’ll come back, but you never did anyway. The rose that we madeWithered, and everything started to fade. The rose I’ve only ever loved, Is the destruction of what I have. Have you ever loved a rose? Before: but now the petals are closed.

The Rose by PK 30

Aflame, afire, you still admire, In your beauty, I end up gazing. Profoundly, I’m your south, my dear. And you’re truly my north, my love. With perfect timing, you came near, When I was cursing God above. Hand in mine surprisingly fits. Tuning my heart like a fiddle, Though we’re two polar opposites, How did we meet in the middle?

You’re my light, my bona fide guide My mind is not riddled with fear I’m the moon; you’re the stars beside You’re cold, and I’m a scorching fire. You’re bleak, and I’m wildly blazing.

To think that fate has put has here

Polarity by Andrea Patrice G. Espiritu

On the walk home, I found a cat He was so ugly, rude, and fat I hope one day He’ll have to pay That filthy cat who I named Matt.

On the walk home, I found a cat He looked so cute I named him Matt But when I neared He hissed and sneered Then looked at me like a dirty rat Nevertheless, I loved him so And I refused to let him go I used my foot to keep him put But all he did was scratch my toes After I flinched, he ran away And with that, I was on my way I was so sad And just as mad That a cat ruined my lovely day

On the Walk Home by Samuel Pimping 33

Hininga Kaibiganng by yellowbell 34

Paano nga lang kung kapos pa rin isa?ang O ang hiningang kailangan, hindi niya handang ibigay?

maging ang dagat ay hindi laging Mgapayapa,hampas ng alon ay sa inyo’y Katubiganmagkakandarapa,aylulunurin ang inyong Hanggangpagkakaintindihansamayisang maubusan ng Buhathininga.ng pag-ibig sa tinuring mo nang Paulit-ulitkapatid, man, tulong mo ay hindi mapapatid.

lagi silang makita, Sa eskwela, sila lagi ang kakampi at Hindikakulitan.man magkadugo, sila ang ating Sila’ypahinga.tagapakinig at kanlungan tuwing Subalitluluha.

Dadating ang araw na ikaw namanhihiling,ang

Para sa hiningang tingin mo’y niyaibibigayrin.

Hininga’y ibibigay nangalinlangan,walang

Mahirap ang magkaroon ng kaibigan, Minsa’y mas mahirap pa kaysa sa wala. Tanging batid natin ay ang saya kasama Ngunitsila, paano kung sila’y sanhi rin ng Sabikpagkalata?tayong

Pagkalunod ba ang pipiliin saalang-alangsamahan

O aahon sa katotohanang ikaw ay iniwan at tinalikuran? Hindi laging ligaya ang dala pagkakaibigan,ng Ito ang reyalidad na madalas nakalilimutan.nating

Upang ito’y magpatuloy, tulungan ay dapat nariyan. Nang sa ganoon, ngalit ng dagat malampasan.ay 35

Basta’t walang mag-isang lumalaban. Pero ang kaibigan ay isang tao lamangdin, Nauubusan ng hininga at malunodmaaaringdin.

The Flawless and The Scarred by aleahkim

Love is almost as common as fluttering one’s eyes. It’s the phenomenon of falling from a cliff with ecstasy. A word defined by so many, yet still a mystery. Bearing so many forms, many can’t help but wonder of its origin and how it’s come to be. One of those is a man touched by the gods. His face and stature, mocking both jewels and silk Though he may possess anyone’s affection and lust Everyone only sees him as a sculpture, One that is made of clay and can never feel joy.

In the halls where the man stands display, The woman observes amongst the crowd unamused.

While others hover for a single fabricated smile, She waited for the man to break and cry but to no avail For the man has long forgotten his will. When the moon finally reaches its peak, The statue wishes he could sigh and be relieved, However, perfection simply does not permit. At a time, he wishes again but now, for tears, The woman appears, the stars guiding her feet.

They are two ships never meant to meet Both their beginnings are nothing but tragedies. The first finds a huge void where everything exists, The other sees the world as void and seeks what exists. Yet wicked fate paved the way for their routes to meet.

Another is a woman blessed in mind and craft. Her sword’s a pen, and her shield is her scarred shell Though enveloped with flaws all over her body, She bears them like armor, ignoring all existence. After all, happiness ultimately lies in acceptance.

On a day when everyone is busy with festivities, The statue waited for a shadow he dearly wanted to see. Troubled by the cries he wasn’t able to sweep away, Strings he never knew remained existing soared, And the answer he wasn’t able to say finally slipped.

There’s nothing to bind them but their gazes, The tips of their fingers never touched once either, Yet it felt everything since heaven is their witness.

The statue stares at the woman curiously, Wondering why she won’t smile at him, Confused as to why she’d ask such fantasy. The flawless wanted to understand, How she could stand tall with many scars in tow.

‘Won’t you come down?’ she softly whispered. Looking at him leaves her a certain sting One that seems to be a bittersweet spring. The scarred wanted to understand, The normalcy the man can never have.

Another night fell, and the two share silence again. The full moon arrived the next day, and still the same.

‘Won’t you come with me?’ Eve’s daughter later asked, Her eyes swelling with tears the man cannot give. Her shoulders trembling, her scars mixed with fear. The man could only watch her keep her head down, And her pleas filled the halls until dawn.

‘If you’ll have me,’ his once steel cold lips muttered. The voice he held back for long broke, yet it lives. A sensation of warmth runs through him as time ticks, And so is the disbelief with the gods granting his wish— To embrace that odd woman and kiss her scars all day.

The people cheered with axes and pitchforks, They say the witch has finally been caught and killed. The witch they speak of is the woman of his dreams. The flawless didn’t dare look away.

is a cruel, ironic thing, one you cannot predict. The statue’s life began the day the witch’s end came.

He finally understood how the woman felt Seeing him caged every night in a wretched state. It infuriated him, not knowing she knew all along— To be a spectacle for everyone just like him. He burned the memory of her churned ashes in him, All while realizing the burden of breathing again. He remembers the times she wanted to run away, The many chances he could’ve had with her. Them holding hands, he can now only imagine.

The man hurried to be on his way, Not just because he’s thrilled about what face she’ll Butmakeof what makes him strangely anxious that day. With stolen clothes and few coins, he reached the city, However, the festivities became his ultimate misery. At the square, a spike stands still as he once was.

The gods seem to know of their blessed child’s end, As her lover mourns, they command the rain to pour, So long that people pondered if the gods were crying Lovetoo.

It’s surrounded by blazing fire and oozing with blood.

For it was not your eyes that captivated me, but your soul laid bare in front of me. It was not your lips that touched me, but your heart crazily beating against me. Can there really be a chance with someone Isimpossible?thereeven a reward for those who devote themselves to the unknown? Will there be an instance when fantasy collides with the doomed reality? What are the odds of beating the divine time and immortal laws in order to see what mundane eyes cannot reach?

Aurora by augustine 40

When the distance between widens, the fissures appear. The faults used to be unseen, all developing, creaking. What flows out is a magma of sorrow and grief, Of all the efforts wasted, burned, buried Howdeep. was I to understand the grave Ofcomplexityallthereasons made, each was in Ijeopardy.wasthe cloud of reminders wasted Allvastly,into dust, drowned and left in misery. All of the sacrifices I endangered my soul Waswith turned into sh*t, insulting and Withrevolting.thesame crown I used for you and your Turnedglory,into a tombstone where my hopes were buried. I’ve had the fascination of wasted and sad Neverdenouement,knewit’ll be the same for mine, ending enigma. Tied down, bruised up, bleeding, all emotions used up, Screeching with pain, letting out a cursed Howcough.was us, our ours, your mines, and my Throughyours?the years together, thrown deep down under. Your murderous baits and twisted reasoning woes All made me rabid, seeking you for hunger. But then time tamed my wilderness and Answeredcold, my whys that you left Finallyunsolved.breaking the chains which tied me down and hold, With the thought that I’ll be forever a prisoner of your void. You were my bright auroras in dark night Turnedskies, into a black hole filled with greed and Neverlies.knew your cravings can’t be satisfied by mine’s--Was never enough, never will be close to Myfine.chains were loose, but I still wandered the forest where I got lost, Still seeing your face, your apparitions still I was ahaunt. But then it occurred to me: I was the prey captured and brought, But I lack what you want, so you seek for Imore.bidgoodbye to all the photographs and writings on the wall. I’ll try and disassociate you with every tune my ears remember. This is when I part ways; on a journey, I chose to be alone. And I promise not to trust anyone again until I finally know. And dear you, though I left with much Isorrow,stillhope for your best, your wins despite the lows. Sadly, I wouldn’t be there during the clearing of your hole, And you back to auroras, lighting nothing and lone.

Mors Prope Est

by LifeIsPain If you see me hanging under the night, Please hug me tight. If there are wounds on my wrist, Hold my hand like it still exists.

If you see me lying on the bed, Stop it; this is the end.

If you see bubbling by the mouth, Touch it; it is my last breath. I tried to kill it, but no one could heal it. I tried, but I got tired. Life sucks so hard, I feel dejected and discouraged. I wish every hour had a break To stop the thoughts that keep my head cracked.

Moon and the Tide by coffeeandrhymes The moon and the tide Is figurvatively the story of you and I I am the tide And you are the moon You can't help pulling me Closer and closer to you And I can't help myself To be drawn too Perhaps this is the nature's way Of proving that the universe is clever enough To make two things Want something that is forbidden to have 44

At last, the final chapter of our love story You are the moon And I am the star And finally, we share the same sky No more tragic endings And almost beginnings No more brief hellos And bittersweet goodbyes The stars have finally aligned for us.

The sun loves the moon for his serenity, for his calmness, the type that she needs for her brightness

Perhaps, this could also depict the story of you and me

Moon and the Sun

The moon loves the sun for her brightness, for her sunshine, the kind that he needs for his darkness

I thought the forbidden love of the moon and tide was the most heartbreaking love story of all.

But then I realized it was the story of the moon and the sun that is utterly tragic.

Moon and the Star 45

Then the universe claimed their love to be forbidden Because the universe won’t allow something so powerful and beautiful to collide So they try to be together once in a while A rare phenomenon

It was more tragic to be together for a short time, to experience something, to hold something, to have something that you know won’t last forever. But the moon and sun agreed. Because the once in a while encounter is better... than having nothing at all

Moonlight Confessions

by Luna Full moon and bright lights What if I kill myself tonight? Would a fall from this heightenoughbe or will it just me injure merough?thus I’ll just get entangled in wires as I set my soul on fire, electricity might go out neighbors would wonder what this is all about I’m nothing but a burden, inconveniencean who does things that makesenseno I feel like drowning even though I’m in the open air Tears falling, vision blurring, it’s too much to bear Everything’s too suffocating but all I’m doing is nothing. I let myself be chained down, All I could do is break down. Trying hard to suppresswhimpersmy As my screams devolvewhispersinto My feet start to go numb as I keep falling crumb by crumb

Road lights brighter than stars in the sky, I want to say goodbye to the lump in my throat a and sail far away on a boat I want to leave everything behind and go somewhere they could never find, but I’m just a coward who keeps making excuses and I’m always the one who loses As trucks drive by the road of Istarlight,staredeep into the night wondering if there’s anything I could do for my life or just live in strife If there’s one thing I must be able to commit to, it should be disappearing out of the blue If this is all that will ever become of thenme,I don’t want to be me I’m tired of trying I’m tired of living I don’t care if anyone will cry, please just let me die.

MIRROR, MIRROR by Maria Nykhaela G. Javillonar What am I to you? What am I to who? What am I to me? Mirror, mirror, what do you see? Am I just a ball of fat and anxiety? Just another speck of dust in society? Putting on a facade of normalcy as I don’t even know the real me Am I a serious student or a quirky Amartist?Ishy and quiet, or do I want to riot? It’s all hidden in the deep mist, while being too tired to face Goliath. As the sky shifts from blue to yellow to gray and to black, I sit here all mellow, thinking how I’ll get my life on track Why do I keep holding myself back? What’s with this endless feeling of I’mlistlessness?startingto crack because of my laziness, excuses, and Ihopelessnessamfree,but am I really? To choose my own path, and not just go along with society to prevent incurring their wrath I don’t wanna work for a company, I don’t wanna start a family, I just want to live for me, am I not allowed to just be happy? 48

Tired of thinking logically and Politics,realisticallytaxes, and money, money, There’smoney, more to this world, can’t you Orsee?maybe adulting’s just not for me. All I do is dream in a world of wherefantasy,I can be whoever I want to be, painting the colors of the wind and exploring the deep sea, where all is right, and I am free All this might make you throw up because I’m already too old now and I should learn to grow up, and let my younger self take a bow Should I give up and die? Shut up and cry? Stand up and lie? Get up and sigh? Mirror, mirror, what should I do? If I don’t know, then why should Amyou?I who? Am I you?

Sinkingby e.k. Ships shattering against the rocks Struggling to fight against the storm Kill yourself before the thoughtscome Hurt yourself before the pain undone Please don’t kill yourself, child, Do not be the waves that go wild For when you find overboardyourselfatsea You’ll find yourself struggling to be The dead person you yearn for Is nothing but a silent lore 50

Why Do We Write? by e.k. Curious how language is just words Until humans gave them life breathed meaning into letters woven in paper and given emotions filled with the dark stain of ink the smell of parchment fills the air We try to write something stirring words that give us hope between the borders of truth and lies unable to choose what’s even crueler the sensation of floating in dreams, or the crushing weight of reality? 51

Yet grow disappointed and highly displeased

They don’t think of my heart like a flower field

People wonder how I could be so heartless

As I give them a big bouquet of yellow carnations

People come in search of a chrysanthemum

They leave and do not turn back with effervescence

They think of it like a fortified iron shield by e.k.

Snapdragon 52

And spare no thought crushing it amidst their pleas

They do not notice the sprout of plum underneath

Hindisinisigawako

Madalas ay nakikipagtalo pa rin ako sa tadhana Patuloy pa rin ang pag kwento ko sa mga tala Tuwing gabi’y nagiging kaibigan ko ang mga kuliglig na sumasabay sa ingay ng aking isip Hindi ka na nawala maging sa aking panaginip Hanggang ngayon ay nagbabaka sakali pa rin ako sa mga Magkasundobulalakawparin

ang puso’t isip na iisa ang mapapagod sa kahihiling araw-araw Dahil lahat mayroon na ako maliban sa isa— ikaw. by sophia Eirren

Kung bibigyan kang muli ng pagkakataon na mahalin siya

Sinusugal pero hindi na pinipilit

Kusa nang ika’y lumalayo sa tuwing siya’y papalapit

Binitawan mo na ang mga salita na Nakalayapinanghahawakan‘yongkanaba?

Tula

O pinipilit lang na walang maramdaman?

Pinakawalan ka na ng sakit na sa ‘yo’y kumakapit

Kung ang sugat sa ‘yo’y nananatili pa, Pinoproblema mo pa rin kung siya’y nakaalis na

At kung ang mga sugat ay naging marka na, Ibig sabihin ay wala na ring pag-ibig by sophia Sa Ating Dalawa 55

Hihilingin mo na sana ikaw ay manhid na Dahil ang pag-ibig ay hindi na inuulit

Ang pag-ibig niya’y parang mitsa ng kandila Kapag umabot sa dulo, pakiramdam ay nawawala

Kiliti na aking naramdaman sa ating walang ‘singtulad na samahan, Aking ipinapanalangin na sana’y ‘di na nawakasan.lang Ako’y napamahal sa mga kiliting iyan, Ngunit ngayon ang nais ko na lamang na makamtan, Ay kiliti ng kalayaan mula sa pait ng iyong paglisan. by Amby Marielle Masiglat Kiliti

Kiliti na aking naramdaman sa ating kuwentuhan,bawat Na kahit na walang kabuluhan ay nabigyan ako nito ng kapayapaan.

Kiliti na aking naramdaman sa bawat salitangbinitawan,iyong Paniguradong ‘di ko malilimutan kahit ang tadhana’y tangayin ako kung saan man.

LightBrightest

You told me you envy the way the moon radiates light, And how the sunset is my day’s highlight, You were jealous of how the sun shines bright, You desire to be like the stars at night. Little do you know, It was the moon, sun, and stars who envied the way you glow, For the light that you show is the brightest light, my rainbow.

by Amby Marielle Masiglat

i wrote you a eulogy and i read it to the moon; i would’ve told you about it but you’ll think that i’m a goon. why would i write you a eulogy when today you still are living? it’s because i fear that i will lose you with our lives short and fleeting. people tell me i should wait until you’re resting underground; if they find out i wrote you this, their eyes would be moon-round. but why should i let these words of love wait until you’re dead? my heart breaks to know you’ll never hear the words i left unsaid. maybe you’ll get hit by a car, or get attacked by a flock of birds; the only thing i know is that when you die, i’ll have no words. by Jamie Cheri Canonigo Caguiat i wrote you a eulogy

±260° (somewhere in between) 59

Always hot and always cold never frozen and never burnt nor had a light, warm and golden neither had a pit, damp and darkened i’m stuck in the in-between where i’m not merry, yet also not unhappy where i’m worn out but equally frenzied where i’m unmoved but always worried you know i could be your grace and shine but their light will always eclipse mine as they burn, have a fire of their own while my “shine” is mere light bouncing off stone so maybe i can try and get in their way put myself in the middle of night and day only to let my shadows be your bane i’d be the curse you chase away when i feel the lowest of lows as i sail through the highest of highs i ask, was it ever only skin deep or in my hollowed bones, it sleeps in the in-between, i struggle to be free i let these extremes rip me at the seams maybe the tears between the drought will be a path to guide me out hoping it’s not a chasm to sink me deeper nor a tank to suspend me longer don’t want to be in the in-between: a joint confined in the two sides of a coin i want to rise above, be a star like the rest if not, then at the rock bottom, i’ll make my nest just don’t let it be both don’t let it be neither let it be anything but in the in ukiyo

bybetween

The moment I met you No doubt ― it was love I believe we are truly destined by the heavens above It was definitely the right time And also the right place Destiny tells me you’re mine Fate wants me in your warm embrace But, what can we do? The whole world is against us Feelings might be true But everyone wanted us apartbyHope Memory of Regrets I thought the timing was right Only to realize I was wrong It hurts to put up this fight So, maybe it’s our fault all along The moment we met Became a memory of regrets I decided to stay away from you Leaving me all black and blue 60

you’re like the sun a million light-years away yet you shine in brilliance during the day the beauty radiates so much that it hurts it burns my skin and also my soul through the thickness and the thins a shadow has been formed so I hid to run away basking into the freezing cold by Raymundo Miguel V. Pineda the andradiancethebreeze 61

A bird soared in the sky Touched the clouds above Glided against and through the air But in the end All she needed was to rest In a tree where she built her nest by Raymundo Miguel V. Pineda The Tired Bird 62

Words dripped out of my mouth, Coated with velvety poison, You couldn’t take it. Neither could “I.” Eventually, you saw me. A ridiculous reality awaited us. “I” was a fake, Only a genuine copycat of your ideals. To you who fell in love with the “I” in me, I’m sorry. by Ira Krishna A. Obcemea ‘I’

in Me Doesn’t Exist 63

The

“This feels like a dream,” you once said. Warm rays of the sun shone upon us. Blissful as it was, you took me in your arms. And I was happy. Like a moth drawn to my flame, You flew towards me. Simple yet burning bright, That was how “I” seemed to you. Yet this false imagery of yours Slowly ate your being. You were pitiful, even delusional. And “I” could only laugh.

EstudyanteBuhay 64

Maliligo, magbibihis, at mag-aayos Oras na para sumunod sa mga utos Magluluto, maghahain, at kakain ng hapunan Maghuhugas ng kubyertos at aayusin ang mga upuan Bubuksan muli ang kompyuter at gagawin takdang-aralinang

Sa mga gawaing bahay naman tutulong Maglilinis, magluluto, at maglalaba Magwawalis, magtutupi ng labada habang nakikinigsakanta

Gigising, kakain, at haharap sa kompyuter

Mag-aaral habang ang ibang tao ay natutulog na nang mahimbing Aantukin, papatayin ang kompyuter, at maghuhugasngmukha

Makikinig, sasagot, at magtatanong Magpapaalam, magpapasalamat, at papatayinkompyuterang

Sa saglit na oras ay matutulog at magpapahinga Mananaginip na sana lahat ay tapos na Kinabukasan, uulitin muli ang lahat ng nakalista ni Gulat

Stranger

Hearing the soothing sound of the wind. Dancing with my hair just unpinned. Feelin’ the warmth of the sand barefoot, Seeing the nearby branch of wood. Strong enough to face the little waves, I know you’re here; the night is saved. My smile screams with admiration. How do I tame this temptation? Holding your hand as I look at you, After I wrote in the sand, “who are you?”by Jasmine Buan 65

Standing at the edge of the cliff, I heave a heavy sigh. I’ve been lying to myself about many things for a long time. I’ve convinced the writer within me to silence herself and stop stringing the same words into new combinations. I’ve drowned the creative entities that fueled my passion in their own pools of blood, effectively killing off any drive I had: yet I crave the very same spark. I yearn for the pangs of pain from meticulously curated letters. I hunger for the joy that happy endings bring, and I would give anything to have my heart broken by pessimistic finales. The numbness has reached the core of my soul, and I cannot feel anything anymore. Where has the fire gone? by pldg Matchstick

When the ashes fall like snow, and there is nothing left to scorch, my hands shall burn one last thing: to fall in love one last time and feel something one last time, I shall set myself on fire.

Flames have always fascinated me. I loved watching the different colors dance against the dark surroundings, changing from blue to orange and then yellow. The devastation that fire brings is incomparable to the marvelous creations it brings.

by Janae P. Ammugauan La Flamme

As a moth flies dangerously close to a lit candle, so do I desire to kiss the flames of my blazing world. My numb heart enjoys the sound of crackling firewood and adores the view of roaring flames. The deafening screams inside my head stop when presented with anything ablaze: my psyche finds serenity.

What makes her a beaut are the waves along the shore

The burning fire found his love with the love herself It burned so brightly and gave her comfort and warmth

The love does not seek home but adores the Valor Brilliance slowly fades, and the fire never radiates again by Raymundo Miguel V. Pineda Weeping Aphrodite

Where dream sparkles while hope glitters and ripples Apollo called, and the Naiads answered the phone Great Poseidon is left with nothing but a stone

For countless revolutions, numerous rotations, Gaia was unfazed, yet her face seemed to change Time allows her to evolve, yet it never made her bold She still holds the knife that absorbs the life out of her

The game of hearts is a fraud; one will find no triumph Lovely Cupid is trapped in Hypnos’ wonderland

To be held is a dream, but her head is the piece

A heart of pure white gold, but her eyes turned men into stone

But Mr. Death knocks, and the daughter gives her hand

Wind blows in the field of a woman who wears green She cultured her land, and the daughter is her life

The woman weeps until the field prospers and yields A girl was born with a face that defines beauty Her long hair hissed and made Athena very pissed

Even Dionysus’ wine now tastes so sour the three-headed dog is waiting for love to come 69

Mauubos din ang iyong mga luha at titila ang ulan. Pakatandaan mong sa bawat hakbang na iyong tinatahak ay unti-unti ka ring lumalayo sa nakasasakal mong Angnakaraan.tagu-taguan

ay matatapos at ang mga bata ay magsisiuwian; maiiwan kang mag-isa’t malungkot: ngumiti ka’t taas-noong tumalikod. Madadapa ka’t masusugatan, matataya sa habulan, at masusubsob sa putikan. Tumayo ka’t maglakad, ang susunod na antas ay nag-aabang na. Bagama’t malayo pa’t hindi matanaw ang huling baitang ng matarik na hagdan, alalahanin mong mauubos din ang mga hakbang at mananalo ang matibay mong kalooban; ikaw ang kinabukasang inaasam ng iyong nakaraan, ang nag-iisang may hawak ng landas ng kasalukuyan. ni Efthymnia

Abot-Tanaw

Sleepless nights and tireless days

With a snap of a finger, he can crush with his words A learner’s world filled with lifelong work And if with goodwill he’s never full, It’s certain he is rather cruel Thinking we’re absolutely minuscule, Naming students nothing but fools. by Student 53

My mentor’s voice echoes throughmaze.the Lighting my heart ablaze, His messages keep me unfazed. With passion and integrity, Onward goes my psyche; Chasing dreams incessantly Learning his ways with tenacity. An idol with a complex brain A teacher enjoying his reign Once a student trampled in the fast lane Yet surprisingly tainted with disdain. As we look up and praise him He looks down with a plan so grim And whoever thought kindness was schemehis Narcissus has always been his pseudonym We hope he’s aware of the power he holds For high standards and rectitude, heupholdshall

An Illusion of Excellence

Purple is such a peculiar color. It tastes like bittersweet iced coffee on a warm weekday. Lavender is textured, similar to baked crackers filled with cheddar cheese; the crunch is prominent but doesn’t quite overpower the creaminess of the Itstuffing.smells like Zephyranthes on a rainy day or newly-opened packages from a foreign country. It’s unfamiliar but not unpleasant: neither is it the best scent.

Amaranthine sits flawlessly between hearing your favorite song for far too much that it becomes annoying and listening to it repeatedly to fuel your motivation.

The tint of Salvias feels like your dreams are coming true, but they’re not yours to celebrate. It’s analogous to being drawn to a busy schedule and craving rest simultaneously; while choosing to make yourself occupied on vacation.

Mauve is a collision between the warmth of red and the coolness of blue, and it seems like it shouldn’t exist, but it does, and it’s wonderfully crafted. Indigo speaks to the soul and is loud and bold, but lilac is quiet, calming, and wise. Violet is nothing and everything at once, and your hands hold so much, yet it’s empty when you stare at your fingertips. As you look in the mirror and stare at yourself, do you see this color, or is nothing there? by thatprplwriter Name a Psyche

She found herself.

Turning her head multiple times was unexpectedly useless. There she stood, hopeless and helpless. Obviously clueless. There were no tears left to cry, as if the end is nigh, as if she would never have a chance to bid goodbye. Her mind was in constant chaos. She was frightened by the idea of loss, but there she was, lost.

How can a place be so unfamiliar? Everyone is acting sosopeculiar,bizarre.

Under Moonlightthe

Out of the blue, an odd gleam caught her attention. She saw something that looked like her reflection, approached it without any caution.

Everything was filled with noise, and time kept on ticking. The clouds and the crowd weren’t helping, and she felt like it was too suffocating.

Determined to know where it came from, she followed the light as if she was a bird and therecrumbs.were In the end, she fully succumbed. “At last, I am found.” by Anna Marie B. Atutubo

Ikaw ay handog ng kalangitan at hinding-hindi ito mawawala sa aking isipan.

by Anna Marie B. Atutubo Sa Bawat Yugto

Ang distansya sa pagitan nating dalawa ay hindi na mahalaga, lalo na’t ramdam ko naman ang iyong nakabibighaning presensya.

Ang mapalapit sa ‘yo ang ordinaryong tulad ko ay mamamalagi lamang bilang isang kathang-isip, isang hinuha na nagmula sa aking mumunting panaginip.

Ang sarili mo ma’y hindi mo maaaring mapagmasdan, narito naman ako’t mananatiling humahanga sa taglay mong kagandahan.

Hindi ka man palaging buo, ni minsan ay hindi ka pumalya sa pagbuo ng simpleng araw na dumaraan sa buhay ko.

Sa bawat pagkaway ng pamilyar na kalungkutan, hindi mo ako pinabayaan at marahil ako’y iyong patuloy na ginagabayan.

Wala ka mang kakayahang marinig ang bawat salita na aking ibinibigkas, hindi pa rin ako mapapagod na banggitin ang mga detalye ng isang pangyayari na nag-iwan sa akin ng bakas.

Tayo’y tila araw at gabi, magkasalungat ngunit magtatagpo pa rin pagdating sa huli. Iba man ang liwanag na dala mo, magsisilbi pa rin itong liwanag sa madilim na mundo ko.

But will you remember what it feels like? A spark, a moment’s breath, or the abrupt existence of a bubble in the air; euphoria at its finest, ecstasy at its peak. A wholehearted smile, a sincere hug - all of these - a soft kiss, a warm breeze, a crashing wave, and you. These are once in a lifetime. You are my lifeline. by dreia Glimmering Flicker

You, however, are the strongest, fiercest rainfall in the middle of a horrid and arid summer. Need I say more? You’re my much-needed reminder of how joyful regular, lazy days can be, no matter how mundane they may seem. You soothe the burns on my skin brought by every scorching ray of the sun.

Sunshine poses hope and beginning for others, but not me. I despise every bit of it. I hate how happy it makes the world, not realizing its equally devastating consequences. My bad days comprise others’ happy ones when the world is bright and gleeful. Sunny days make me want to puke.

Strangely enough, your lightning makes me feel human and vulnerable; and while thunderstorms wreak havoc on others, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. by Jana

Date Me on a Rainy Day 81

by Pxrplx A Demain 82

I am still disappointed. After the hard work and the arduous days, my heart still craves more. Chasing my passion was a dream come true, and leaving the dead world of corporate work should have been enough to satiate my desire for fulfillment.

Writing and creating: this was where I belonged. In a world of journalists and authors who string words together, I wanted to be the one who burned images in the cortices of readers. Yet page after page, pen after pen, book after book - my tongue remained twisted, and my hands were still tied. My works seemingly hold no real value; until the moon shone on my book, highlighting page 391, paragraph 5, line 2. “Why don’t we try again tomorrow?” 83

A ray of epic adventure, An adventure limited to only a day, A day full of scheduled plans, Plans that were ruined and somehow became fragments, Fragments that made the day, A day that seemed broken yet complete. Oh! How aesthetic, the water sparkles. Out of unimagined ignorance, Only fruits of imagery fill my memory. How a rainy day can become cozy; A sunny day so ecstatic that it’s depressing it ended. I just closed my eyes and within seconds, My mind jumbles a memory. A future, past, and present feeling, How time flies within circles. Nostalgia Yellow Lillies with the Moon

A simple sound of harmony tweaks my nostalgia, And I reminisce upon frozen moments. Days when I struggled only to settle, When only I felt so little, But every spur of the minute, I ironically felt big; Impossible was not even my limit. Such sunshine of fun, Sip from a restaurant near a bridge, A river filled with light, And how my surroundings twinkled.

And I grinned upon the night, Of how tragic the sun became, Of how I believe light follows darkness, Of how I became fond of yellow. Now I drink melodiously at midnight. Magnificent is the evening breeze, Just like a memory, I caressed. The moon smiles and shows me light in the joyous Nowdarkness;anendless ripple it goes, Of how I lived life, What’s to come. A melodramatic sniff, And I laugh with the moon. Yellow lilies were present. It blossoms as I chuckle, How sweet, how momentous, Now once again, it’s frozen. A space I created, The road brightens up, Cordelias come my way, And how the moon speaks my name. 85

No one has ever asked me what I was afraid of. At the seam of every cut, a ridge of fear emerges. While most people are scared of abandonment or loneliness, I’m just worried that I’ll be the person who brings you unfathomable pain. What will I do then? How am I supposed to hold you close? I know my words are just as horrible as blades against your skin, and my presence is more troubling than comforting. Maybe at the dawn of the end, you could tell how frightened I am at the thought of you, how terrified I am of saying the wrong things that will get you leaving, running, fleeing because of misery. In the darkest corner of the room, I curl up and wail in horror. I simply wish to enjoy the galaxies your eyes hold, to relish the wonder that your mind emanates. I think of you when sharp knives kiss me and tiny raindrops fall onto my dry, rough palms. I picture you listening to the ocean’s crashing waves, smiling blissfully at the resplendent sunset that paints the sky orange, pink, purple, and everything in between.

The Fall of Spring 86

As the water mimics these splendid colors on its rippled surface, the refracted light gives me a glimpse of what the world could be without tranquility, and I’m shot back to reality. Still, I’m petrified. If I come any closer, I could push you off the cliff and send you falling into oblivion. I should stay here, at my very own berm of fear, ready to flee at any moment, ready to jump into the darkness to save you from my monstrous self. Savor the twilight for me. by Daichi

by Rona Mae B. Vicencio The RedMilkVelvetTea 89

“Oh, it’s Red Velvet Milk Tea,” Dawn answered cheerfully. “Okay, two large sizes, please.”

“What is your bestseller?” The customer appeared curious, eager to quench her thirst with a sugary drink.

“Wait, what is this? What the heck?! There’s a hair strand in your milk tea!” The frazzled customer alerted Dawn, and this called for her de escalating skills.

“Franklin’s Milk Tea! What’s your order, ma’am?” Dawn chirped.

“Yum! It is so delicious! Though it has a slightly bitter taste, we still love it! Is it okay to ask why it is bitter?” The joyous customer looked at the drink in her hand and then at Dawn. “The reason for the bitter taste is how we traditionally brew it. That is the specialty of Franklin’s family,” Dawn muttered, but now with a poker face. Then another customer came and ordered the same bestseller.

“This is one of the greatest milk tea flavors I’ve tasted! I swear, it tastes like cake, though it has a bitter taste.” The customer continues to take a few more sips, enjoying the seemingly innocent drink.

“For today, I will choose brown contact lenses,” Dawn said to herself while choosing the color of her contact lens. After a minute, she applied a special sunscreen all over her. Her skin is tinted like pure white marble and very sensitive to the sun. After applying sunscreen, Dawn rushes into her small milk tea stall because of two customers.

Dawn maliciously grins at the customer and proceeds to prepare the milk tea carefully. She then gave it to the customer, who was waiting patiently.

“No, you and this milk tea stall are garbage!”

“Okay, sir, you may now leave. Here’s your money.”

Dawn called Franco, her brother, and ordered him to follow the male customer and whispered, “Make sure.” Franco nodded as he obeyed his sister. In the blink of an eye, dusk was here. As Dawn sat at an old-style wooden table waiting for Franco, he came walking through the door with the male customer blindfolded. Dawn removed the garment, and the male customer was fearfully stunned by what he saw. He is now in a century-old mansion, greeted by Dawn, his milk tea seller. Dawn and Franco removed their contact lenses in front of the male customer. His jaw almost dropped because Franco’s natural eye color is yellow while Dawn’s is violet. Their sharp, white fangs emerged from their mouths.

“Did you know why our milk tea is bitter? Simple, it is made from human blood,” Franco said while laughing maniacally, sending the customer into new heights of terror. “Franco, I think we have run out of stock of fresh blood for our red velvet, and, oh, I’m thirsty right now, and I’m guessing you are too, right?” Dawn nudged her brother, giving him the go signal to get their dose of euphoria for the day. “Why yes, I’m really thirsty!” Franco roared as he approached the Thecustomer.twovampires then dug their teeth and claws into the body of the poor male customer as the moon shone brightly in the dark night sky. 91

“I’m so sorry, sir! I’ll just replace it for free with a bucket of cookies. Please don’t spread this to others,” she apologized.

Have you ever felt devastated, as if your body is trapped in loneliness, darkened by pessimism, and dulled by the unwillingness to act? Have you ever felt so unloved by your parents, friends, or people you give importance to?

Dark Night 92

Hopes, dreams, and faith are wasted just trying to figure out what’s wrong with you every night. Why do you keep trying to do your best, even if you know it won’t bring you the joy you want? I will destroy that happiness. You can’t run away from me. I’ll hunt you down and destroy your precious memories and everything you have. I will make sure your heart will be broken and tired, and I’ll shred that faith of yours until you wouldn’t want to leave your bed. You’re not worthy of love, and no one cares about your life; I’m telling you, sweetie, just give up. All those problems disturbing you at night, I’ll make sure that you’ll overthink so hard that you won’t be able to sleep a wink.

I am the devil that creeps day and night, even when you’re asleep, tightening your chest and making it hard for you to breathe. I’m a mental disorder that is hard to cure. I will make you feel incomplete by letting you feel lonely like nobody is there to help. I’m one of the reasons why teenagers like you commit suicide. I am Depression. I will suffocate you in my world full of darkness and in my world where the word “love” doesn’t exist. by Ocifica

Many teenagers suffer from my friend, Anxiety and I. We’re the two types of things that can make you lonely, numb, worthless, hopeless, and even helpless. I’ll give you an overwhelming sadness; I will flood you with negative thoughts to keep you locked up, making you feel weak like you wouldn’t want to move a single bone in your body. I will destroy that heart of yours, keeping you in my walls. No one will hear you, nobody loves you, and no one will ever care why you keep shutting everyone out. I will make you suffer every night thinking if anyone gives a damn about you. Darkness will be your friend. Numbness will be the only feeling you’ll feel. And I’ll make you forget how good it was to be happy.

Sa lugar na kung saan ang kapayapaan ang nananahan, Ngayon, unti-unti na itong sinasapawan.

Ako’y natatakot hindi dahil sa kadiliman, Kundi para sa sarili kong takot na mapag-iwanan. Lumaban, lumalaban, at lalaban, Pero hanggang kailan ko ba dapat ito pagdaanan?

Wala bang ruta na maaring lakarin Makapunta lang sa liwanag na aking hangarin? Natural lang bang mawala sa proseso Kahit sa una palang ay mayroon nang plano? Paano ako maglalakad sa kalsadang hindi ko kabisado at gusto? Susundin ko nalang ba ang sinasabi nilang “sumunod sa agos ng mundo?”

Paano ba ako sasaya Sa mundong sakit lang ang laging dala? Teka, ilang araw na ba ang lumipas?

Sinasapawan ng mga kaisipang hindi ko alam kung saan nagmumula At kung paano ako nakulong sa selda Na ako lang rin pala ang gumawa, Ngunit walang ideya sa kung paano makawala.

Ang mundo ay nakakatakot, Nababalot ng kung anu-anong hilakbot.

Tao Maypo!tao po ba diyan? Maaari niyo po ba akong tulungan?

Maraming pagkakataon na ba ang napalagpas?

Ako’y nawawala at hindi alam ang patutunguhan. Narito ako sa lugar na magulo at madilim. Maliit ngunit sakto lang para sa akin. Isa sana itong lihim, Ngunit hindi ko na kayang tahakin.

Paano ba ako makakalaya Kung sa bawat hakbang ko, pag-asa’y nawawala?

Tao Maypo!tao po ba riyan? Pakawalan ninyo ‘ko Sa aking sariling mundo. by Lovely Joy Accad Sariling Mundo 94

A Line in the Sky 95

I don’t know how to enjoy being awake; I don’t know how to live in the moment. There’s always this fear of running out of time and people around me bursting because I was late. Ironically, even if I check the time way too often, I don’t wear a wristwatch because I never learned how to read it. What’s funnier is that I was unable to learn how to read analog clocks back then because I kept getting left behind. I couldn’t catch up in class back then. When I grew up, I still didn’t bother to take the time to learn how to read the clock because it takes too much time to learn about time. What even is the point of writing all this? I guess it’s just me trying to record this very moment in my life, realizing I didn’t know that enjoying meant taking your time. If that’s the case, I guess I never properly relished doing anything in my life. If that isn’t sad, then I don’t know what is.

Recently, I discovered that enjoying things means taking your time at the moment: savoring every second, basking in that exact moment. All my life, I have always been in a hurry. I never really took my time to taste food properly. The only thing on my mind was to finish eating as soon as possible. I never really basked at the moment: all I was thinking was that I had to get home as quickly as possible or else people would explode at me. I do everything hurriedly, and before I know it, the time has already passed without understanding what it truly means to take it easy. No wonder I ended up hating myself and everything I do because I grew up to be impatient. I wanted to finish things quickly, moving on to the pending assignments.

I keep messing up because I don’t slow down to do chores more carefully, and then I blame myself for never being enough. Even when I’m doing nothing, I wait for nighttime to come so I can finally sleep and not have to deal with being awake and Apparently,living.

by Sky Snake

Now that I think about it, I felt peace only when I did nothing with nobody around me, like going to school an hour early just to sit in a dark hallway or empty classroom as I watched the sky change from black to gray to orange and then, eventually, to blue. I guess what I do appreciate is silence and solitude as I observe my surroundings without any thought.

I’m a horrible person for saying this, aren’t I? Mistrusting everyone and did not even consider the fact that they genuinely liked being around me. I’m such a fake person, and I act even worse: pushing people away, especially if they try to dig in and get closer. I always stay within my

Why is it that all I’ve ever done is shut people out? I never let anyone know me, and I don’t really let myself get to know anyone. Am I that afraid of forming connections? Am I scared of being accepted for who I am? Who am I even? I don’t even know myself; how can I get to know others? Do I even want to know about myself or other people? There’s always this wall I build to separate myself from everyone else. Whenever anyone tries to break it down, I build it up even higher. Why is it that I keep locking myself up in here? My brain subconsciously keeps making me think about what-ifs. I’m just rambling here randomly, but it does matter: After all, I’m the only one who’ll ever get to read this and cringe about how dramatic I am. It’s like that black poetry notebook I used to have filled with random cringy poetry. I just wrote for the sake of writing and filling my own daily quota back then. It didn’t matter what it was about or if it made sense; I just did it to pass the time and to make it seem like I was this creative literary genius when in reality, I was just a cringy kid who was at the “I’m 14, and this is a deep phase.”

It’s hard to know what it means to live when all you do is try to survive.

Yep, RIP to my youth is right, song playing at this very moment. I spent my childhood with the only thought on my mind being assignments, exams, and grades. Oh, grades, grades, grades. I didn’t care about the people around me, nor did I bother to form deep connections-- only superficial surface-level classroom “friendships,” if you could even call it that. They flocked around me because I was the goody-good kid who was a little quirky. I may have been the “I’m not like the other girls” type back then, but I did what I had to for school, so they put up with me in order to benefit during groupings, or so I’d think to myself.

always been my only companion. From the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, the only one I am there for and there for me is a screen. It always has been. I was never satisfied making real connections and experiencing things with real people. But with a screen, I can do anything. Wow, isn’t it sad? Am I really saying that the only true “friend” I have ever been truly attached to is nothing but a screen, something virtual, something that doesn’t exist? All I’ve been doing is avoiding reality, endlessly distracting myself from ever forming a thought, avoiding people and situations with uncertain endings, and trying to escape the truth of myself and this world. If not, it will all come spilling out, just like this word vomit. Typing out ramblings that would never see the light of day, knowing there’s the possibility of someone reading this if they simply scroll through my notes or if this gets approved for the literary folio. Will I ever write here again? Will I ever read this? Will anyone? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does, so what even is the point in me writing all this stuff? Does it matter that it doesn’t matter? Will these all fade like chem trails forming a line in the sky?

comfort zone, not wanting to be uncomfortable or face unfamiliar territory. I ended up being awkward around everyone and keeping myself at a safe distance. I can never voice out my true thoughts-- I mean, I could never really say them out loud without being all weird about it. So I write. I. Write. So that’s where it all began: that’s how I started to be somewhat decent at writing. Because I can’t say things and can’t look at people’s faces, but I can write words and look at a screen.

A AA.screen.Screen.screenhas

have you encountered this before? everyone must’ve felt this maybe once or twice in their lifetime. even if it is just your eyes that meet, you feel something magical blossom deep within. it somehow makes you feel excited. you giggle, blush, get nervous, sweat, stutter, shiver; maybe you know it is love. maybe you were in love. you are in love. oh, i sigh, wishing i could feel it once again, even just for the shortest interval of time. i would be glad to know how it feels to be happy seeing someone who could make my heart pound so badly that it could break my rib cage. i can only yearn for the lost twinkle in my eyes whenever i see that man staring blankly out of nowhere, the heat that will rush through my cheeks whenever our eyes would meet in the busy crowd, the nervousness that makes my body shed sweat when he ambles confidently towards the girl that adores he the most. the corner of my lips would start to curl up and construct an awkward smile as he flaunts his ravishing beam that could allure every woman; when butterflies would start to flutter their wings inside my butterflies’stomach.livesare

short-lived. they spend most of their time changing themselves inside their cocoons, protecting themselves as they grow beautifully, but some butterflies do last long; it just depends on their own i’mkind.guessing that every human has their own kaleidoscope of butterflies inside their stomachs. i can neither experience nor feel those magical things anymore, as i think my butterflies are already dead before they could even flap their wings. their cocoons were merely transparent or black, knowing that they were ideceased.justwish my butterflies would live longer, create a garden, and dance with the flowers as they gracefully flitter their wings until their last breath. take care of your butterflies; you don’t want them to die too early like what happened to mine. by neo Take care of your butterflies

100

Too Heads Are Better Than One (Sometimes) 101

If you tested positive for being an overthinker, your temperature would exactly be at both ends. There is no such thing as hot and cold; you add “too.” Because everything for an overthinker is “too” much. Am I saying the right thing? No, I am too stupid to discuss the best roast for butterscotch coffee beans. My dress for the night is above my knees. A shade of pink, perhaps periwinkle, tight-knit cocktail, yes, I am in love with it. But isn’t it too extravagant? Too eye-catching? The length suggests it’s too short for me. Maybe I am thinking far too deeply. I said many “too’s” for you to get the idea that maybe having two minds inside of you is worse than settling for one. Overthinking works wonders because it creates a fabricated brain, pretending it is the logical one in the bond. When in fact, we only have one, and we cease to lean towards its reasoning. I don’t think it is terrible to have two heads. Underneath two heads is a human who had to learn the art of being with others. Not anyone could craft that art. Lower down. I am too loud because that old man in his walking crane needs to hear his wife talk about her day. Walk faster. I am too slow because a boy behind me is chasing his dog who escaped from his leash. Talk slower. I am going too fast that my little sister might not get her chance to know me more.

There are many instances that this pain we have could appear as a savior. Of course, I do not like overthinking. I do not fancy simply choosing to walk away from being too much that if I had any speck of strength to wordlessly exist loudly and proudly, I would. But I was never built to do so. Perhaps, I was built to be this human with crippling second-guess syndrome, and I do not want it to get the worst of me. It will never get out of my system, but if I get the best out of it, maybe it won’t be too much to handle. by aechasu

It was blazing as I grew up and the flames attracted them even more. Some scouts adored the fire, most were envious as mine’s large, but all were focused on my twigs, all didn’t get a glimpse of me. by Stephanie Lacey A. Mendoza

I made a flame so big and proud, dancing with the leaves of the forest, singing with the birds on the nest, taming the wildest to be its friend. The embers grew more, and I knew, they loved what they had found. They were captivated by it so they blew more to keep it alive.

And so I was handed twigs by the troop leaders of the camp, greeted with their fiery welcome and decree to light up the branch: “Right now, your twigs won’t alight, use your flames for dreams to take flight.”

I’ve loved camping as a kid, with the scouts making a campfire as large as their shadows and hot as their brass rings, with their parents putting branches in it so no flames would be unlit.

As my incineration started, my parents played with the fire.

102

Flames of a Campfire

I once prayed I could make one more effusive than what I’ve seen.

I realized they were amazed by the fire, not the trick I used to turn it ablaze.

I stayed in the camp ‘til I was old, only knew the way of the campfire— keeping the flares alive, putting up a smile with my gift— I never experienced the chaos and beauty of the outside world. My flames were gigantic now; my twigs couldn’t catch up. The day had come when my fire stopped growing, when visitors stopped coming, when no new scouts were showing. I was never told how to bring it back, how to ignite my flames from the cracks. Did I burn my twigs too much?

103

The flames went down; I forgot one thing: Fire’s not enough if you don’t add more twigs. I’ve learned to hate camping as I matured.

Now I’m left with the ashes of the past. I was handed twigs, for I thought I was gifted. I was told to light my dreams alive by the beauty of my fire. I wasn’t reminded about this part, I wasn’t jogged by what was important.

Love is a Card Trick

104

I am still mad. I’m angry, enraged, wanting to take revenge. My eyes crave to see him suffer, my hand tingles at the thought of feeling his tears at my fingertips, and my ears come alive when I think of hearing his sobs.

I don’t know how it feels to forgive and forget. It seems like people have been rambling about moving on these days, and it always bothers me how this clog at the back of my throat never goes away.

The same hands that cradled me in my sleep and caressed my cheeks ever so lovingly turned into merciless palms that threw slaps on my face. The fingers that fit perfectly between mine transformed into fists that gave me broken bones and turned my skin black and blue. Slowly, the damaged furniture in our home accumulated. We had to replace lots of them, turning a blind eye to what this actually meant.

He was an angel. His smile was my personal ray of sunshine on a gloomy workday. His voice was once music to my tired ears, soothing away the exhaustion and singing harmonious lullabies that calmed my senses. I wanted him to be within reach, for his embrace was my home. I used to look forward to his soft kisses, but these same lips spat on my soul and discarded my worth, reducing me to an enslaved person, a prisoner, even.

I guess this is what love is. It’s fighting in public and screaming at each other while being lovey-dovey behind closed doors. It’s the sweetest couple in public while telling your partner to leave and die behind closed doors. It’s busted tables and shattered windows, ruthless words, degradation, lies, and denial. by Qulyndreia

105

finally learned how to protect myself, it was too late. He had turned his back on me and was finally living a happy life with his new partner. All I’m left with now is this deranged concept of love and hatred for myself. He messaged me the other day, asking how I was doing. I wanted to tell him I was still mad, enraged, wanting to take vengeance. I wanted him to know that my body aches to see him suffer, but this is what love is, right? To suppress my emotions to cater to his. Is that what love is? To forgive and forget, to let go and move on?

hing his unfaithful acts and being told it’s my fault for going through his phone. He has a point; I wouldn’t have found out if I hadn’t opened his personal belongings. It’s my fault. I am to blame. Love is trying to reach out and care for him fight after fight. Love is enduring the yelling and the beating, continuing to shelter the person who makes me feel like crap. It’s repeatedly crawling back into their arms as if they hadn’t annihilated my psyche. Love is asking for freedom while willingly staying in a relationship that does nothing but sucks the life out of me. Love is wailing and crying and begging for the pain to stop while knowing whole-heartedly that he’ll never Whenchange.I

Locked in a dark and scary place, where darkness I embraced Scars that ran far too deep, ones I could never forget My dreams wander in my sleep, some that I couldn’t beget Desperately fixed others without a care for my own

bymirth e.k.

Requiem

106

Until I ended up with nothing and left with no comfort I became too scared to trust and let others in To break down my walls and start over, clean

To surround myself with joy and everlasting peace

Dragging me down into its depths, further and further to eternity

To allow myself to cope amongst the evergreen trees

Hope is the thing in feathers that lay in the deep brown earth With the soft scent of flowers while the sky smiled with

To find acceptance that quiets this screaming voice To be embraced in the arms of someone and rejoice

I can feel its gurgling breath, caught in deadly gravity

And never stopped to think of troubles deep in my bones

Why must I suffer while they escaped unscathed?

Gave away everything; even time and effort

107

108

If you only knew how happy I was when you turned over to face me, you’d know: it was where my life pivoted. The search for second chances was finally over, luck was ultimately by my side, and the wind swayed in my favor. With such a rare prospect, reversing mistakes and undoing missteps was my priority. I vowed to make our relationship worthwhile, filled with happiness and delight, shifting away from dismay and distress. Much like a sweet apple at the peak of its gradual life cycle, I was filled with hopes and dreams. Instead of a charming fruit, we embodied the turnover cycle of a business venture; unruly, too quick, too frequent, too much to bear. Suddenly turning becomes burning. In the blink of an eye, I was tormented by the fiery flames of hell again. Like an apple plucked too early from the stem or a profitable venture closing too soon, you chose to leave and turn away from me, yearning for something more than an affinity. As we headed in different directions, my days were filled with gloom and loneliness. And maybe this was where I started seeking a third chance, frantically pushing to make broken things work for both of us. When I met a dead end, I realized starting over was just a stupid idea, a fantasy of sorts.

The next thing I knew, there was no turning back. Seeing where we stood, we started as “L”overs and ended “C”overed with wounds and gashes. Instead of a turnover of ambitions and passions, I realized we were a mere turnover mistake in a basketball game, accidentally - but inevitably - giving up possession. I shall bounce back on another play, veering away from your presence with my steering wheel: to restart the apple’s life cycle alone, attempt again for a different turnover. by Professor X

Turnover

it was my fault for leaving you alone in the midst of the vigorous storm, rain pouring all over your body, shivering because of the cold. i never knew you were drowning in your own flood of thoughts, suffocating, desperate for help, and on the verge of losing your iconsciousness.wastooselfish.

i allowed myself to be free and relish the taste of the faint odor of fresh and newly grown grass, plants, and flowers encircling in the air rather than to be soaked with you in the storm. it was my fault for neglecting you, which led you to treat me this coldly. when you desperately needed someone to hug you and calm the storm inside your heart as you endured the pain all by yourself, i left you all alone as you begged me to stay.

i surfeited playing hide and seek with the sun in the field of flowers, but when i returned, you were sitting in the meadow with someone else besides you. your eyes were serenely staring at the fading dark clouds as the rainbow said “hi” to the two of you. i’m too glad that someone rescued you in your own flood of thoughts. by neo drowning in your flood of thoughts

109

The gnarly sadness lurking in my system was surging again, coating my skin in its gloominess, dyeing my blood a velvety purple, and shutting down my rationality. Tears were welling up in my eyes, and I felt my throat tightening. I struck my chest twice in desperation. “Keep your head up,” they advised. “Your tiara is falling,” they reminded me. A crown made of shards of broken glass embedded in my skull will never fall, but what was there to protect anyways? I already allowed everyone to persecute every inch of my sanity, and they all left no stone unturned. I laid stiff on the mattress and stared blankly at the ceiling for hours, peering at the window to see the marvelous sunrise bring the long-awaited end to agony.my

It has been proven that most chronic illnesses stem from sleep deprivation since staying up late prevents the body from recovering from the daily processes that damage it. Science said that less than the recommended amount of rest leads to memory issues. Funny how my tired mind begs for shuteye

110

by Lilac To More Sleepless Nights

This was better, though. So much better than snoozing off into dreamland, only to return to the dreadful reality of existing despite not wanting to.

Ember and Stained Glass Eyes

Dreams are just a bunch of lies, a temporary balm to soothe the pain. When the soothing pastel colors fade away into oblivion, I’m left with a weaker disposition, and everything hits a little harder, like how rain transforms into a thunderstorm after going under a tunnel. I will be slammed back to square one, erasing all progress, deleting improvements, and reopening the stitches I sutured with Atbitterness.thevery

111

Sleep deprivation seems like an injurious habit, but staying up is so much better than huddling under the covers and visiting a world of deceitful nirvana.

least, staying awake helps keep the pain constant and unwavering, eradicating the possibilities of even more scabrous days.

Thinking and concentration should be hard when the brain is tired, but I have no trouble focusing on distractions built to destroy the pangs of travails. Poor sleeping habits also equate to poor balance, but I am pretty sure misery has outweighed glee long ago. Too little sleep could also weaken the immune defenses, but there isn’t really a way to put up a shield against bedlam.

Hold up your teacups, and say cheers to the screams we swallowed to feed the emptiness jailed at the deepest pits of our stomachs.

but is unable to erase the excruciating cues it has witnessed, endlessly replaying the words that have repeatedly tormented my psyche.

KILÁLA KO NA KUNG SÍNO KA by Adíng Kiko, dps Wala kang pinagkaiba sa ningas ng apoy na nagsasayaw sa kumpol ng mangá bulawang dahon. Kalong mo’y nakapapasong init na kung tawagin mo’y di magmamaliw. ngRebulto—imahekasinungalingang hinubog mula sa pamamagitan ng pira-pirasong mangá bato. Pinako mo, Mangá pangako mong may mulanangKapalitngmulakinabukasansabukalbanyagangsantinakpan.aymangápatakdugonglantaydati-ratingdumadaloypasamuntingpuso. 112

TAGAPAG-MÁNAAYIKÁW NakapilaAyikáw, Kasáma ay Magmamánamágnanákaw.(ngnákaw)Ayikáw. 113

Ading Kiko, dpsMALIKHAINGbionote

AWTOR ng literature & law sa pambata at young adults si Adíng Kiko, dps. Unang edukasyon niya sa isang pampublikong paaralan sa Navotas, at University of Manila. Kumuha siya ng kurso sa batas (UE at SSC) at naging editorial staff sa isang law journal. Bukod sa patnugot sa Filipino, si Kiko ay naging Features section head, at OIC ng lingguhang pahayagang pangkampus na Dawn, napiling makasama sa AILAP Writing Lab at gradweyt fellow ng mangá workshap na Palihang LIRA (Linangan sa Imahen, Retorika, at Anyo), at Writing The Forest DLSU. Rehistrado din bílang awtor/manunulat ng National Book Development Board (NBDB). Lumabas ang kaniyang mangá akdâ sa UE Dawn, at literary folio nitong Dimension, MaMag malayang magasin, Dawn Poets Society literary journals, Takipsilim Kuwentong Pambata, Gawad Alagad Panitikan, LIRA Ovo | Zen, Philippines Graphic, Ani ng Cultural Center of the Philippines Intertextual Division, sa mangá antolohiyang Mabaya (7 Eyes Productions), at To Let The Light In (Sing Lit Station at ng Asia Pacific Hospice Palliative Care Center) sa Singapore, A Journal Of The Plague Year (Arizona State University SHPRS), Beatific Magazine sa Estados Unidos, 114

Kasalukuyan niyang itinutuloy ang kaniyang myth gamit ang teknik na pabula, eco-humanities bílang janra, at sub-janrang forestry— plants & trees. Sa kasalukyang taon, ang kaniyang likha ay kasama sa pinakabagong isyu ng Ateneo Heights, at naimbitahan siya sa isang oral presentation Reading The Regions 3 ng NCCA National Committee on Literary Arts (NCLA). 115

NBDB Bookwatch, digital media kagaya ng University of the Philippines - Manila The Reflective Practitioner, Artikulo Ko To!, Panitikan.Ph, The Maginhawa Street Journal, pati na din sa mangá referred dyornal ng PSLLF na Kawíng, at Luntian.

Nakapaglimbag ng higit tatlumpong aklat-pampanitikan, ang kaniyang mangá akdâ sa Filipino ay ginagamitan niya ng mangá sagisag-panulat. Si Kiko ay isa sa mangá alagad ng panitikang Filipino—tagapagturo, patnugot, tagasalin, iskolar, historyador, teorista, teolohista, pilosopo, kritiko, mananaysay, mandudulâ, mangangathâ, manunulâ, photographer, ilustrador, at rebyuwer. Nag-aral siya ng malikhaing pagsusulat sa Ateneo De Manila University, at nang lumaon, sa University of Oxford.

We get a lot of help from people. Family? Friends? Strangers? A lot. Though, some help we get is an investment. You gain from them now; they gain from you later. They gain from you a lot. But what do we actually want to gain? Success? Happiness? Love? A lot. People like you can never be contented. A lot like me. We want fame, a good social circle, high grades, want to be liked, want money, and truly be happy. We want to satisfy our thirst, but we can’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t. What’s the purpose of living if you can feel contentment easily? We can list a lot, but it can definitely turn into greed. Once you taste the power of being high, why would you want to go down? To tease others? To help others? A lot of things are written on top of my head. People are bad in nature, or maybe not. Maybe we do not share the same views. Still, I’ll always think that my view is the right one. Who would want to be wrong? A lot. Many people would still play with fire just to lavish in the adrenaline. Just to feel something. Just to make them feel alive. Though, I know I can be taught. I learned a lot from people’s stories. I know a lot now. I still think my head is just bits of pieces from the minds I talk to and interact with every day. I know a lot now, but it will never be enough. I will always be hungry to know, learn, and be influenced. A lot of you may be wondering how come the title is not really connected with the content. Well, think again. A lot is salty in Tagalog. by bloom Salty

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O maghihintay gaya ng tagsibol, Na matapos ang paghimbing ay may Walangpaggising?liwanag kung walang dilim Walang tagsibol kung walang taglamig Walang ligaya kung wala ang pait Walang pag-ibig kung walang sakripisyo Piliin mo ang pag-ibig! Sa gitna ng taglamig ‘Pagkat kung may paghihintay, Balang-araw ay may pagdating. ‘Pagkat sa pamumukadkad ng Mayo, Pag-asa’y uusbong sa puso. May pagdating sa mga naghihintay, May kulay sa mga kulimlim. Ang pamumukadkad ng Mayo, Kahit malapit ay sadyang malayo. Marapat na maghintay ang nagmamahal ‘Pagkat ang pagmamahal ay paghihintay.

Ngunit sa kasawiang-palad tulad din ng Yaringtagsibol,pag-ibig ay maraming hamon. Dumaraan sa marahas na taglamig, Pumapawi sa mga yakap na mainit. Kung gayong tahimik ang taglamig, Mauumid na rin ba ang iyong pag-ibig?

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Sa pag-aagaw ng dilim at liwanag, Nagsisi-usbong mga bulaklak na liyag. Sa masamyong hangin ng buwan ng Mayo, Gumigising ang umaga, hudyat ng tagsibol. Sino ba’ng mag-aakala, Na darating ganitong bagong umaga? Wari’y kahapon lamang nahihimbing Mula sa marahas na taglamig. Ang yakap ng haring araw Sa nyebe, tunay na nakatutunaw. Ang init yaong hatid, Bumubuhay sa patay na paligid.

Sino nga bang mag-aakala, Dumating! Isang magandang umaga? by yellow

Sa Pamumukadkad ng Mayo

Ang pag-ibig ‘di nga ba’t tagsibol? Umuusbong nang kusa, Tunay na may halina, Naglalagos sa kaluluwa. Waring yakap ng haring araw Ang pusong matagal nang may ginaw Katulad yaong pagsapit, Sa iniibig, sadyang may sabik. Gayon din ang pag-asa, yaong hatid Sa pusong kay tagal nang naumid.

Gabi-gabing pinagmamasdan ang taglay nitong ganda, Tangan ang pag-asa na sana paglisan nila sa pagsapit ng umaga, Mas payapa’t dalisay na bagong umaga kaysa sa mga nauna.

Madalas mabanggit ang salitang tala sa anumang liriko’t akdang Simbolotula. ng pag-asa, kahilingan, liwanag, at pagkadakila.

Habang ibinubulong ko ang kahilingan at hinanakit ko sa hangin, Nakapikit at kuyom-kamaong ipinapanalangin.

Biglang sumagi sa aking isipan na siguro nga’y parang tao ang mga Siguro’ytala,tinitingnan din nila tayo paibaba, nagbabakasaling tayo ay kanila ring nakikita—hindi sigurado nakahawak sa salitang “malay Namamanghamo.”

sa liwanag na dala sa bawat dulo kaakibat ang dilim na kasama nito. Siguro nga’y para tayong mga tala sa gabing maraha’t malaya. Nagniningning nang walang kapara o kaya’y minsan, ‘di nakikita.

Lamunin man ng dilim o ng kapal ng ulap buhat ng bagyong Hindinagbabadya,naman nawawala ang ningning, natatakpan lang ng dilim.

Hindi ka rin nag-iisa, may kasama ka—magniningning kapag nakaalpas na. by Exiquel R. Baclayon siguro nga'y parangtao ang mga tala 119

When I was younger, I still had the energy to yell and fight, I even wanted to plan a murder and go off into the night Now, I’m out of energy but I still have no control over my life, I don’t know if I’ll break free, all I know is that I never want to be a wife I hate how I find myself acting like them butsometimes,Itrytocontrol these violent tendencies by writing a few rhymes about how I see my family as my enemies Even so, I yell at my brother and tell him he’s a bother, But I don’t want to be like my father or ormothergrandfather or grandmother I don’t want to be here for the rest of my Ilife,want to leave and never be seen again, I’m tired of all the strife but then again...

We Don’t Talk About Trauma

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They get angry so easily, nobody ever says sorry, they fight violently in this family It’s like living in a landmine, wherein even one small mistake or if you overlook even one sign, they’ll smash the cake Many things will fly in the air, along with hurtful words and swinging fists, I just shut up and do not dare to say anything to resist Even if things may seem alright, it’s too good to be true, the next day, there’ll be a fight and no one knows what to do In this house, all I am is an expense I am a burden to spend money on, so it makes sense that I feel like they regret that I was born I never went outside on my own, not even to go to school, so I was always alone just to follow every single rule by Mirabel

It’s not always like this, there are good times as well, but I’m tired of living in survival mode; I want to experience bliss and get away from this hell Nobody knows how to communicate, There are no constructive debates, only tiresome arguments, My life is ruined; it’s too late nothing makes sense Can’t look people in the eye Can’t go outside, I am living a lie and I don’t know how to get off this ride We don’t talk about trauma No, no, no, no, no, no We pass it down and continue the drama Oh no, no, no, no, no Even if the pressure goes drip, drip, drip and before things start turning red, I’ve got to leave this ship or I might end up dead.

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It’s 6 A.M., badly want you to greet me, “good morning!”

The once-in-a-lifetime moment: it was my fault in the first place. Let’s treasure the scenery; we surely need it to ace. A minute for us to pretend to be blind before the next step. Hoping the time just stops, To the point that resisting doesn’t help. Hold my hand whenever it’s cold, Even for a short period, I know this will never get old. I’m scared; why do I feel this way? It’s dangerous, but I just want to sway. I’ve been receiving a warning, but today all I want to say is “goodbymorning.”

The skies tell me it’s destined, so join me, bear with it. You’re my new safe place, I hope you don’t mind that I’m this late. I just broke through the wall that I made, I can sense that it’s full of hate. I know it’s still a little early For me to say that I like it.

How I wish my heart would not end up mourning. Can we be together for tomorrow’s new beginning? Show me your flaws and make me concede without begging. When I can’t handle it, please make me understand with wit.

Jasmine Buan

Hope you don’t mind, I don’t want to miss it.

Good Morning 124

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by neo Drowned in your Aureate Bouquet of Conceited Allegories 126

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The sleepy blue sky greeted the field of nemophila with a sweet kiss as they anticipated how my hand would hug yours with my ocean-like epistles to fill your void with the calming waves of mine. Still, they weren’t close enough to hold on to you. You were at the edge of the sea, waiting for me, who drowns in my own slow-pace outpour of words. You let me drown in your aureate bouquet of conceited allegories.

Every epistle that you spew through your cherry lips tastes like the deep cerulean ocean that serenely soothes the void in my own stormy sea as it beckons its warm, mellowed arms to replace the withered roses with somehow radiant dandelions.

I never understood why i was dragged into my own pit of sand. I was just trying to learn how you quickly and smoothly paced yourself with the waves of words while i was suffocating underneath nothing but d a r k n e s s

The puffy corruption that chained me to my comfort zone smothers me under the ocean of thoughts, wishing that someone would kill me. But your ariels that glimmer down my slide of the unknown were filled with hues that led the path to you.

by Taya Hira 128

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Ang kulit na naman kasi, ‘e. Nasabihan na nga, hindi ba? Nakikinig naman ako. Akala ko’y natuto na ‘ko kaso ako pa rin ang talo. Paulit-ulit kasi akong nakikipaglaro kahit na alam kong magiging kulelat ako. Ang hilig ko pa ring sumali sa gulo kahit na alam kong ako ang uuwing luhaan. Punit-punit na ang paborito kong blusa na iniuwi pa ni mama galing sa Saudi, ang lila nitong kulay ay natabunan na ng buhangin at alikabok. Ang mga mantsa’y ‘di na rin mabilang ng mga daliri ko sa kamay at paa. Ang mga tuhod ko’y puno na ng peklat; iisipin mong sa higit dalawampung markang nasa katawan ko’y maaalala na ng utak ko kung paano piliin ang kapayapaan ngunit hindi. Mapilit pa rin talaga. Ilang ulit nang nabali ang kamay ko’t nalinsad ang balikat at bukong-bukong ngunit hindi ko pa rin alam kung paano protektahan ang sarili ko. Ako’y tila isang gamugamo na nahahalina sa liwanag ng apoy. Sumasali pa rin ako sa palo-sebo kahit na ang mga kamay ko’y pawisin at hindi alam ng mga paa ko kung paanong makaaakyat sa kawayan. Paborito ko ang patintero kahit alam kong ako nang ako ang mahuhuli, at magagalit sa akin ang mga kakampi ko. Kahit nga naman anong tulin nila’y bahagi pa rin ako ng grupo. Kapag nataya ako’y tapos na ang laro. Nakikipaghabulan ako kahit na palagi akong sumusubsob sa kalsada at napupuno ng gasgas ang mga braso’t binti ko.

“Susubok na naman kasi, ‘e. Nasabihan na siya, hindi ba?”

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Paulit-ulit pa rin talaga. Ang hilig ko talagang iladlad ang sarili ko sa mga taong hindi naman interesadong malaman ang kuwento ko. Iisipin mong sa dami ng beses na nasugatan ako’t umiyak ay matututunan ko nang lumayo sa kapahamakan. Dapat ay alam ko nang maging listo at ilihis ang sarili ko mula sa gapos ng kalungkutan ngunit nahuhuli ko pa rin ang sarili kong nagpupunas ng uhog sa isang sulok. Ibang klaseng saya ang nararanasan ko sa tuwing makakahalubilo ko ang mga taong ‘yon. Handa na nga siguro akong magbulag-bulagan sa tuwing ipinagpapalit nila ako. Kulelat at patapon nga, ‘e. Malamang ay iiwan nila ako’t maghahanap ng bagong kasama. ‘Yong mas mahusay, ‘yong mas kapaki-pakinabang. Kaya ayaw ko sa larong tagu-taguan, ‘e. Kitang-kita ko kung paano sila sumusuko sa tuwing ako na ang hahanapin. Sa tuwing lilitaw na ako upang lasapin ang pakiramdam ng pagtataya ay doon ko lang malalaman na kapwa nagsi-uwian na sila. Iyon na nga lang ang nag-iisang larong maipapanalo ko pero tinatalikuran naman nila ako. Sa tuwing ipinapakita ko ang sarili ko nang buong-buo’y natatalo ako’t nagkakagalos. Ang pagtatago ko nama’y kinasusuklaman at sinusukuan. “Susubok na naman kasi. Abangan mo, madadapa na naman ‘yan.”

She is a woman Labeled as soft, emotional, and weak She is a woman Who thinks it’s fair to always feel fear She was belittled She was judged She felt as if everything was just too much And it’s better to keep her mouth shut Too scared to speak out loud Haunted by the judgments of the crowd Accepted even those against her will Making her invalidate her own feelings by Ansley Jane S. Leron A AvenueWoman’sofHope 132

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Suddenly, a voice rang in her ear “What day is it today?” ― she heard It was the 8th of March; twirl and whirl! An avenue of hope for ladies around the world Eventually, she fought back As she saw the strength in her scars Learned to acknowledge the fact That she could also make it far Tired of living with the labels They have said nothing but fables So, she is now ready for the quest To move to conquer and be her best She is a woman who wants to fight inequalities Because she is a woman who can face her fears

Lumubog na rin sana ang pangmamaliit sa mga babae’t makita sila bilang kapwa, Pantay na pagtrato’y kanila na sanang matamasa. Pilipinas, gabi na! Wika ng mga babae, “maaari na ba kaming magpahinga?” Dahil sila’y pagod na mula sa inyong pagpapahirap at Pilipinas,pang-aalipusta.bukang-liwayway

ano ang kaya ng kahit na sino’y tiyak na kaya rin Pilipinas,nila.takipsilim na!

Pilipinas, gising na!

Babae!Tindig,

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Oras na para imulat ni’yo ang inyong mga mata, Kahalagahan ng mga babae’y inyo na sanang makita. Pilipinas, tanghali na! Atin na sanang malunok ang katotohanang Nanakabalandra—angmgababae’y sadya ring matitikas at maraming Pilipinas,kaya.

Sana’y sikatan na rin ang mga babae ng pag-asa, Gayon ding sana’y sa wakas, respeto’t pagkilala’y kanila nang makuha. ni Amby Marielle L. Masiglat

na!

hapon na! Subalit, tagumpay ng mga kababaihan ay ‘wag nating gawing Sapagkatsiyesta,kung

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by aechasu All The Things I Did To Be Loved 136

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Bought matching bras and underwear. Spoke too fast or too slow. Pretended that I liked it when you touched me. Shaved and creamed. Took my shirt off. Took my bra off. Took my baby panties off. Took everything off and sent it to you. Nestled my face into the crook of your neck, which reminded me of men’s socks. Went to places I felt uncomfortable. Wrote you letters I knew you never appreciated. Made sappy poems that are now crappy. They all rhymed, and I loved their sound until you read them. Begged you to call me. Prayed you would stop calling. Begged you to reply. Prayed you would ghost me. Never mentioned your best friends. Listened to you as you repeatedly declared that you were 5’7 (but actually just 5’4.) Called the red flags the shade of crimson resembling the sun that cracks to the night at 6 P.M. because you can never deny the loveliness of skies no matter what shade of red. Never said no. Apologized for saying no. Let your hands travel around me when I said no. Let your hands unbutton my blouse when I said no. Let you inside me when I said no. And you said no.

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Lied to my parents. Spilled my secrets. Laughed at your silly jokes, even though I resented them. Sang off-key. Though it meant nothing, I did text “11:11.”

Ichurn.dideverything

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Learned that all these were not symbols of love, yet I looked at brand new shirts and thought of you. When people showed me poems they wrote for loved ones, I searched your fingers on the paper, tracing the lines you might have touched but would not, hoping I could move on if I lingered silently to desire. I went home every day to wash off the parts you had darkened, but no matter what, in those moments you undressed me in all my naked glory, I sang a lullaby to my faith that behaved stubbornly. Perhaps you felt that it was one of the best days of your life, yet why didn’t it include holding my hand for the first time? I held a spot reserved for you, and every once in a while, I remembered how awful it was to be right next to you, that to be intimate in your mind, I could only go as far as just scratching the surface. Granting a tighter grip to simply find you are one-dimensional and boring. You had me from the point of my head to my Achilles heel that I came out empty, out of color red, in a full twilight blue trip to break away. In this, I was made of memories that tasted bitter, of droplets of sweat from those nights bottled in a jar, kept in a safe of recollections that make my heart to be loved, enough to have forgotten it exists. The beauty of it has ceased. If love meant suffering, then watch me hold my breath.

Even when she’s gone and not by my side, Always and forever, I will cherish our memories back when she was still alive. She died years ago when I was a child. Oh, I still remember those days in October when I cried every single night, But even though that tragic moment happened, still in my mind, she remains alive. Oh, back to the days when everything was fine, I still remember those beautiful and unforgettable times; Those golden days. Like when we used to sit and eat oranges and look at the clear blue sky, Like when I used to sleep beside her when I felt afraid in the middle of the night and mostly when we tuned in to watch our favorite tv shows on primetime. Oh, how beautiful and sad both at the same time. Oh, only if I could turn back to those times.

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But even if it’s in the past, I’m thankful to the Lord that He gave me a grandmother in this life of mine. A grandmother who hugs me when I cry, A grandmother who patiently answers my whys, But mostly someone who understands me all the time. My grandma is in heaven, don’t worry, we are doing fine. Oh, at times, it may be difficult, but I have learned we should always continue to fight. We know you are always watching us, especially at night. Oh, one day we will see each other and happy we will reunite. Oh, my grandma, that day will come, and I will hug you very tight. Oh, I know one day in another life, I will see your beautiful smile; that day will come in God’s lovely time.

She is beautiful, she is kind. She is whom I call my grandmother, whom I love all the time.

ni Christina Jazlyn Lim POPO 141

142 by PixelatedEurodyte

I have been obedient my whole life, and rules were my friends. Without a list of things to do, my day would be awry, and I would be lost for God knows how long. I don’t know if it saved me from anything, though. Too much? I think so. Too little? I think so, as well.

1. I tell myself I am a good person. I disguise my ugliness in purple lights and paint myself a wide, bright smile to make myself presentable. I douse the monster in the mirror with gasoline and burn her alive before destroying other people and crushing their souls with my careless words and reckless decisions.

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4. I tell myself I know how to let go. I keep my head up and focus my eyes on nothing. I fixate on the void no one dares to look at while the memory of anything horrible gnaws at my flesh and seeps into my evening tea. I could go on, but I wouldn’t want to consume much of your time. Word of advice: don’t trust people who wear their hearts out on their sleeves. They hold machetes, ready to cut you with heartbreaking phrases. They cling onto anything and everything, desperately gasping for air when the past pulls them back into an ocean of regrets. They transform their wrath into self-loathe. The books they bury their faces into often turn into cement walls, and they end up in the emergency room with fractured skulls. They make you believe they’re there to listen and comfort you, but their blank and expressionless eyes tell you more than you need to know. They can’t recognize the people that treasure them, and they’re lost beyond belief if you don’t tell them what to do.

2. I tell myself I like working hard and achieving too much. I bathe in a swimming pool of work and eat paper for breakfast. I submit my academic tasks on time and slam my face into books, believing I am a diligent kid with high hopes for the future.

I have written and followed lots of rules. Now, I beg you to save yourself from the trouble of rummaging through my messy room to reach me and take off my eminence-tinted glasses. Maybe this rule will save you from something. Too much? I think so. Too little? I think so, too. Good luck.

Do you want a list of lies I tell myself?

3. I tell myself I know how to forgive. I take a dose of innocence, swallow my anger, and then a teaspoon of stupidity to keep it from resurfacing.

I am in an odd position where the things I adore no longer shine. The faces of the people I love have slowly warped into a blur.

by Pledgerrific Firefly

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Should the light in his eyes ever disappear, the star shining in the distance will find its way back into his soul.

Why does he keep his head down? He hides from everyone and makes himself invisible, blending in the mediocrity of the crowd, suppressing his oddity as if it were a crime to gleam.

Does he sit on his bed at night and cry to sleep, thinking of all the possibilities his passivity and anxiety threw away? He most definitely does somehow, somewhat.

His dreams are made up of painful nightmares and tearful abandonment: an endless cycle of torment. Maybe he closes his eyes and craves deep slumber to toss away all the hurt, but he wakes up bloody from his bleeding heart. His wounds reopen at the strike of midnight while tears soak his pillow. He breaks at the slightest touch, aches at the softest breeze, and melts at the sun’s warmth. He still goes on to dance like no one’s watching, though. Especially on Friday nights when he’s allowed himself to let loose and the night terrors are nowhere to be found.

When he slays the darkness with his smile, hope flourishes. Maybe tomorrow, he’ll remember where he hid his strength. Tonight, however, he empties himself into the void.

by Sophia Limang Tula ni Sophia 146

4. maging masaya ka sana kahit mag-isa kahit hindi kayo nagkaroon ng pag-asa gustuhin mo pa rin sana ang iyong sarili kahit hindi ka pinili sa bandang huli

5. doon ka lumugar sa espasyo na walang pinipili tipong yayakapin ka pati na ang iyong mga pagkakamali doon ka sa sitwasyon na walang pagkukunwari dahil ang pag-ibig ay isang bahaghari

1. may pagmamahal na kusang nawawala minsan bumabalik at may tamang hinala mayroon din namang hindi umaalis pero sa dulo ay wala ng tamis

3. palagi kong inaabangan ang dapit-hapon umaasang sa pag lubog ng araw ako naman ang aahon hindi ko na hinihiling na masilayan ang bawat umaga dahil alam kong sa pagmulat ng mga mata, wala ka na

2. laging ipinagdarasal sa gabi na kayanin mo sana ang mga bawat sandali sa mga pagkakataon na sayo’y nagkulang at hindi ka sanapunankatulad mong umibig na hindi nasuklian

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If you have moved on, why are you still writing poems, Stalking his posts, Keeping it to your own, And wearing that cologne he reminds you of?

On My Own

One time your worlds collided, but it’s been reversed, Now stop wasting time crying all day long. Wake up! He doesn’t care for you anymore, Stop the illusions and those sad songs yours. He lost you, and it is his loss, You did nothing wrong, and you know that for sure. Stop the 3am thoughts, For you will never bring back the old “before.” Wake up! His love is gone, So there is no reason for you to keep holding on. I know you’re feeling cold, But this won’t take long. Life is tough, but you must keep going on. Self, now you’re alone. You must remain strong and work on yourself, Go with the flow, Just enjoy, And be intrepid on your own Whatever happens, simply ignore--The voices of the past and screams of echoes, Look ahead, stop the worries. For one day, you too will find your very own; Your rainbow awaits, and this is where you belong: Forevermore. by Christina Jazlyn Lim

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My name is Jack. Honestly, I would like to start this with an introduction, but let’s not do that. We can go backward from here.

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Hi, good day. I’m a public defender, a lawyer paid by the government whose purpose is to serve the masses. I stand up straight with my head high and dead eyes. “Living the dream” isn’t as fun as it used to sound. Every day, you witness news, crimes, and deaths all around. Most of the time, work is pretty slow. Reading cases, looking through the Philippine laws for references, and investigating are some of the mere activities in my routine. But other times, it can be gruesome. Coming across evidence, hearing stories, and looking at crime scenes, I chose this. Besides, I have always aspired to solve criminal cases. When I was younger, I looked up to all the lawyers, seeing their strength, stature, and boldness. Their hands waving and expressing pure and solid emotions felt around the room. It’s not as impressive now. Seeing and experiencing the truths and the lies firsthand are draining. The pride I put on myself when I first stepped into court pulled me down like shackles. It feels like a burden, carrying the hopes and dreams of many people that will never come to light, whose parents are heartbroken and severely disappointed. Back then, I thought I could solve problems as a lawyer and make people happy. But now, I realize I am a middle person giving people closure. It’s still good from time to time, but experiencing many losses takes its toll. It can be very difficult, writing this, writing that. I feel immense pressure from my fans and the publishing company. As I look at my keyboard, the keys are the only things illuminated in this dark room. I’m alone. I sigh and look to the left: an empty cup of noodles. Then to the right, my bed, not made, filled with different clothes I may or may not have worn already. Hey, I’m an author. I used to like reading books until something in me sparked. I don’t just want to read books; I also want to write them. The many times I’ve been commended and applauded by my past English professors are unmatched. They’ve approved and supported my writing, which became my drive and inspiration to write. But whenever I finish a few chapters, I realize everything is bland. Flavorless. Then I think, why do I write? Writing a whole book isn’t the best if you think about it. It can be exhausting and draining. I always get writer’s block, and then I know nothing anymore. It’s not like I made it to the list of best sellers. I have a small fandom that depends on me, yet I can’t rely much on anyone but myself. I look around my room; the only things I see are clothes sprawled around and trash. I’m living like your average broke college student.

It’s not that I’m really broke, but the company I work for isn’t known much, nor do people recognize my work. Well, hi. I’m a voice actress. When I was young, in my pre-teens, I used to love copying accents and slightly changing my voice. I thought I would have been able to easily copy songs, but I was wrong. I am a terrible singer. I have tried improving, but the embarrassment has always been too much. I just sing alone now. Sometimes I do sing at concerts in my bathroom. Anyway, I digress. In my teens, I became a fan of many anime and games. At first, I just started copying lines and learning the simple and basic language, but then I discovered how far my voice range went. As a hobby and possible job opportunity, I joined a company that offers both voice acting lessons and job opportunities. I’m glad I was accepted here. I get the job done, my salary and everything is fine. People are enjoying my work as someone who voices and dubs. I just sometimes wish I could get more sleep. Huh, what’s up? I’m a streamer. I play games and music and just do whatever I want while streaming to a community I’ve built. At first, I just wanted to play. But with my good setup and internet, I thought, “why not?” Obviously, I knew what I was going to get myself into. I measured out the pros and cons, and I came to a decision. By just enjoying myself with these games, I could make money, and I Itdo.just gets draining sometimes, doing the same things over and over, thinking of topics I only discuss with myself and the live chat from time to time. It becomes a tiring cycle and becomes mundane. It’s not always fun. Although I enjoy what I do and create content, it’s just difficult, especially with trying new content. I must study and make things right for myself and the people around me. Well, hello. I’m a student. 18 years old, tired, one of the learners of the University of the East. I do art, music, editing, journaling, baking, cooking, and even brewing my drinks. Wow, a barista. I am still young and filled with many different hobbies and ambitions, but at this stage of my life, I’m already quite fatigued. Still, I am looking forward to the future. Oh, wait. I’m sorry. Did I say that my name is Jack? Sorry, I meant, Hi, my name is Tricia. Anxious. Over-thinker. A Jack of All Trades. by FaintAshen

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The Dawn is perpetually grateful to every contributor who wallows in the moon’s lonely glow and whispers their woes to the cosmos, with a fiery heart glowing like a fireball in the sky.

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Contributors

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The Literary Folio of the Dawn, the Official Student Publication of the University of the East