Condescending 

This is dedicated to a friend of mine:

You’re so much better than me, 

Your grades, your looks, even your sugar daddies. 

You say you were bullied as a kid,

Then surely you understand the term ‘Condescending Judgement’. 

You told me your stories in confidence, 

You asked me to keep them a secret. 

Now I don’t understand how everyone knows, 

When my mouth has always been closed. 

Yes I know you won the genetics lottery,

Just remember that lottery isn’t a sustainable sorcery. 

You have so much experience in every field that concerns life, 

But that does not give you the right to indulge in mine. 

I can’t tell you this because I consider you a friend, 

But when have my friends ever been so condescending? 

I know you obsession with owning property, 

Is that why you’ve turned yourself so improperly? 

I’m a hypocrite for calling you condescending, 

Because my judgements are lesser than that of a friend.

But just because my morals don’t align with yours, 

Doesn’t mean I won’t listen to you at all.

And if I can spare a minute for your bullshit, 

Then why can’t you spare a second for my wit? 

Enjoy your free dish while you can,

Not everyone can rely on a man. 

Congratulations on your successes, 

I hope you won’t slept with more men past ten. 

And please keep boosting about the money you get,

At least I get to keep my weekends. 

You don’t schedule in time for friends,

Because you’re too busy flirting with older men.

So congratulations again on your successes my friend,

I may not be rich but as least I’m happy.

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Filthy Rich

I finally understood what this phrase meant: filthy rich. I say so not from experience or a sudden change of luck. I understood from observation, from realisation. Not everything has to be understood by experience. Some things are more clearly explained through the art of observation. The rich become the rich by getting their hands dirty. Hands being a metaphor being everything they are to everything they believe in: their morals, the goals, their dreams, their beliefs, and most importantly, their pride. You’d think the rich pride themselves in being so rich and trust me, they do. I have seen them, I have observed them. But if you dig deeper in their pride, if you look at the source of their riches, you’ll find that they will most likely not be proud of what they have done to accumulate such wealth. No one gets rich by helping others help. That is not to say all rich people are bad. The rich has the ability to help the poor (if they choose to) but you’ll rarely find someone rich whose wealth was founded upon helping those in need. 

So where am I going with this? I once asked a closed relative of mine, “Which job will earn the greatest amount of money?”

Everybody dreams about being rich but we all have different reasons. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich but the truth is, I only want to be rich so I don’t have to think about money. I want to live comfortable enough that money is never a worry of mine. But if you ask me whether I want to be the richest of the richest, I probably couldn’t care less. 

Others want to be rich for different reasons. Rich brings many associative traits. The most common ones are power, fame, and luxury. 

I guess my reason fits under independence and luxury. Two things I’ve never really had in life. 

But would I damage my morals to reach these goals? That is, would I be willing to get my hands dirty? 

To be completely honest, I’m not quite so sure myself. I see how easy it is to make dirty money and it tempts me. I guess the devil would not have survived so long if it did not know how to tempt. And then I would tell myself that it is not worth ruining the morals I have upheld for so many decades. But being rich, even filthy rich is surely tempting…. 

The path to no where

That’s what it feels like doesn’t it? The future, I mean. A path unknown like a path to no where but every step we take is somewhere and every step into somewhere is a step into the future.

And just like the future, I have no idea where this post is going. I don’t have an excuse or an explanation to describe why I stopped writing for two years (well, almost two years). I guessed I got shy to expose so many of my secrets online (even though it may be anonymous). I don’t know why I started writing again. I thought I stopped because I found happiness. And maybe because this blog contains the scars I could not carry so I couldn’t bring myself to be exposed to it again. 

I don’t know who reads these posts and I don’t know why but I’m going to keep writing anyway because that’s what I feel like doing in the present. I’m too tired to remember the burden of the past and I’m too nervous to focus on the mysteries of the future so I’ll just appreciate what is happening now. 

And right now, my family is playing a card game while I’m sitting in the dining room writing. I should probably join them onto the path to no where. 

Losing Self Control

The things we desired the most,
Are those that should be locked or closed.
The small accumulation of an obsession,
Can make us deny all logical reason.
It is true we can sell our soul,
For a moment of the euphoria ghost.
We lose track of day and season,
Reality is a long reach from our emotion.
Such is that of a careless addiction,
That can spiral beyond our control.
Once we make that initial decision,
We are committed to a lifelong treason.
The bad habits we make use of doing,
Becomes our own hell and undoing.
We create our own prison cell,
When we lose control of ourselves.
We convince ourselves it can be stop at anytime,
Tomorrow tomorrow we will abide.
We become the master of deception,
Associate our weakness with confusion.
The bag of lies we tell others,
Strips away our saviours.
Slowly and slowly we begin to lose sanity,
Until we cannot stop living in fantasy.
The guilt and shame eventually fades,
We are so consumed by what we cannot change.

The key to life is dramatically simple,
So why is it so unattainable?

A Grandmother’s Charm

My grandmother,
Probably doesn’t recognise me,
Yet this grandmother if mine,
Loves me very dearly.
My grandmother,
Once upon a time,
Would gaze at the sky above,
And count the stars of the night.
My grandmother,
Gave me another charm,
Maybe it’s a sign,
To have another chance.
My grandmother,
She’s ageing faster than light,
Her body is waning,
I wish I could stop this crime.
My grandmother,
Has never asked for much,
She didn’t deserve this,
I’m sorry for losing touch.

Dear grandmother,
Mother says I’m just like you,
Her harsh tone is a clear insult,
But I really hope I do.
Dear grandmother,
I will value and cherish life,
I will fight my way for freedom,
I will take back my rights.

-FuturePresentsPast

Slavery

Slavery is when your master is always right,
Even when she is wrong,
Slavery is living with the dread,
That your life is far too long.
Slavery is an accusation,
For things you’ve never done,
Slavery is your life on threat,
Your body will never be found.
Slavery is when your rights are lost,
And you disappear into oblivion,
Slavery can break you,
From everything to none.
Slavery reduces you,
It consumes your mind,
Slavery can make you hate,
Until your heart is blind.
Slavery is my home,
A place I do not feel safe in,
Slavery is all I’ve known,
A life full of sin.
Slavery can bake your soul,
Until you’re beyond burned,
Slavery is when she slaps you,
For reasoning and educating her.
Slavery is when you’re forced,
With violence and abuse,
Only once you’ve been exhausted of use,
They sell you off for a new.