day one

what's inside me

liquid, bloody red liquid for the reason for my existence.
anger, and constant questions on why the world didn't match what my mom saw when she had me on her lap, expressing how the world would fill up the void i was desperately trying to fill, with ignorance about the world i was and wasn't prepared to face at all. being the child i was, without any preparation, not given any warning.
disgust, when i saw my existence slowly removing the smile on my dad's face. i was clearly doing my best, i was always a daddy's girl, always wanted to lay down on his arms, listening to him sing me mandarin love songs. i didn't realise he was preparing me for what he feared the most, giving me all sorts of warning and signs that my mother was just filling me in with child's talk and stories she wished desperately was the truth. i wish they knew how much of a struggle i had to go through with my inner demons that i found out the world which i thought i was prepared to face was all a facade.

i imagined my blood to be english words that i write poems with, that are temporarily filling up that black hole void in me that eventually became the reason why i managed to keep breathing.

i always randomly joked about how my insides represents the colour black, how it represents my soul and my inner thoughts.

what's inside my petite body is a black hole, a labyrinth i desperately want to get out from, and the release of that chameleon soul, that slightest glimpse of hope that i grasp so tightly on to be free, that maybe my colourblind soul will eventually see colours that rainbows are desperately trying to show.