234# Reflected

234# Reflected

I'm not a sporty person as everybody knows. But I'm given an evil thinking and an evil left hand to response to certain kind of art.

I love to draw, I love to write something so-called poetic, and I love to take beautiful pictures.

And that's why i decided to take part in 3 catergories out of the 5 for imu's art competition.

I've drawn a picture, which posted a few days ago over here. And I've written a poet for the english poetry catergory.

Typed everything into the computer, and i needed to print it out for submission. When i check the entry form to know the rules of printing, i found something which was really out of my expectation.

Shortlisted candidates will be required to recite/sing/rap their poem during 6th October in front of the judges...

And of couse, since it will be held at the Atrium, means recite it in front of everybody!

God damn it. I'm not going to do that in front of people. It's so farking gay!

Shit. I've already squeezed out my brain juice in order to write. And I must submit it in order to win the cash. I don't want my hardwork ends with a vain.

I don't think that the content of the poem I've written make any sense if it's not read by the eyes. Just by listening to it, i afraid that the judges might have different thoughts about the words.

Anyway, what I've written is still my kind of style. I don't seem to get away with my own style in drawing and writing.

Whatever it is, I will still submit it. The chances of me being picked will be very low, because I don't really think that people will understand what I've written. Therefore the chances of me being called to stage and recite might be very low as well.

But when I think further, it wouldn't be that bad. That would be just a minute of tension to be on stage, but in turn that might bring me cash if won. Damn it. Just an imagination. Most probably won't win, but i want the cash of course.

This is a stody about a girl in front of a mirror.
This girl had been deceived by her saviour.


Naked scissors sighed,
As these cold tears leaked from the inside
The trees mourned over the lost paradise,
As the nocturnal pulse demised
Secrets shared and nailed-in tight,
Reflection of all truth into lies

Nothing seems to be together,
And she could not see herself in the mirror
That was the picture which tried to frame her,
Answers questioned when the thoughts went further
Suicidal notes harmonised in a minor,
Reflecting all the miseries within her

Now or never been sealed in the picture,
Angels wept when she could not stay forever
Through the ignorance which consumed her,
Autumn faded with the scent of winter
She smiles with her regained laughter,
Reflected light returned back to its bringer.


Submit it? Money money come come.

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