britainmonroeb-w

[britainmonroeb-w]

I have no idea whether I can turn this blog as a very private one or not.

Also, I have no idea whether I should validate my sadness due to my loss or stick to the idea that he had been an abuser to someone.

I was 10 at that time, telling how it started would be very long, but I wouldn't be like I am today if I didn't know them.

I could have many dreams, at first just to see them, I realized that my biggest barrier was language, then I tried so hard to learn English lol, until I can put things in words like today.

Then, I had a dream to see them, I learned about cities in England, I tried to get to know how big our world is, I connected with people around the world like.. I couldn't imagine having friends from Finland, Costs Rica, Italy, and lots more lol.

Due to times, I lost some moments until I heard Liam is not here with us anymore. I'll call him as my forever childhood friend.

I still hate it about how you could be so cruel, I would definitely stand for the victims. But I am also grieving to something I could never imagine before.

Liam, I hated for the fact how the industry exploited you, you had lost parts of your life until you became someone we didn't know. One thing for sure, you had done much good things to my life.

Rest ez and keep your harmony up there

[britainmonroeb-w]

‪🛋️💡✨

Everything with lights will emit brighter energy, at the same time it can become warmer, or even hot which can bother people.‬

‪When the lights go out, it will be cooler, but at the wrong time, it can draw you into dark energy. ‬

‪Whether the lights are off, dim, or brightly lit, good things are around you, you can still radiate them.‬

[britainmonroeb-w]

There's a thing called utopia,

And another called dystopia.

Choosing one or the others seems like our choice,

But the truth is... we have no voice.

We grew up with too many dreams,

Wanted to be pilots when we were young,

Set unrealistic timelines as teenagers,

And crafted our ideal lives as adults,

That's the utopia.

But they say, it doesn't exist.

And here we are in the hand of dystopia.

—

p.s it's about the land we live in 🫨🌳

[britainmonroeb-w]

The gas circles its hand around the lungs,

Eyes are closed; counting until the light turns red,

Pressing the switch, breathing decreases evenly.

The loop stops itself, the hand hangs limp, but still.

[britainmonroeb-w]

Things happened today, even it has happened since hundreds years ago, couldn't be more hurtful than everything we ever had/did/saw/....

In the middle of blood, there are watchers.

In the middle of silence, there are gunshots behind the mouth.

In the middle of helps, there are thick-borderlines.

It was for those; whose hands are powerful, but weakened by invisibility—things can't be seen by smol peep.

For the smol, the compass doesn't define them about where to stand; 'take a seat on the center to observe everything around you'.

Seed might be smol but once it grows and replicates, it can create beneficial spells. So are we.

🍉

[britainmonroeb-w]

Higher, up above the sun you will not see.  White you do see, it might be the snow, or the hottest untouchable thing.  Black you do see, it might be a turbidity, or a concord. Blue you do see, it might be a sorrow, or a grandeur. 

That sharp-eyed woman, perpetuates 360 inches of onus upwards.  The closed-mouth begins to ask, ends with no questions.  The powerless-hand constructs diversion ideas, rue.  The untied-hair swept across the river.  E, let me gift you a bunch of sun that will never heat up, sunflowers. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

pulling up the chin to the brightest—invisible—stars,

pulling down the head to the memories you've buried,

rolling the body under the blanket with the salt of your eyes,

the tongue tasted.

the hand twisted.

the time wasted. //

n.j

[britainmonroeb-w]

the opened door, the lights come, no; it’s not from the sun. 

the wide-smile, the bright smile come, no; it’s not from somebody’s jokes. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

Same Stories, Different Person

not by Kevin Parker

The personal thing suddenly be the opener for the book,

It was like being whispered, "you're not alone." /

The ears to listen,

The presence to see,

The heart to accept,

I'd love to be the gate-keeper, just to control everything from the back.

I was taught and born to swallow things really fast and full-of-sudden.

The wings taken off from the left side of our bones, are the strength, with full of blood.

I'd dive in my silence and pull my body up for your noise.

[britainmonroeb-w]

Neena;

The everyday feels like walking on the puddle, 

Thought the hand could beat it lil’ longer, but the stick had to broke its own body. 

Neena found millions of rules in a heavy and thick book, the writings of something Neena does not even understand, the will ignored to be constructed by those things, the eyes were too heavy just to think about it, the burden on the chest was heavier than what’s on the mind. 

The sacrifices mean the world, but the screams will mean nothing. 

She chose to sleep on her knee at the end, 

Burned on the tears. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

Walking in the gap of anything-less,

Driven by the thought of solitary,

Mama told me so, Papa let us go.

I am divided into two,

Banging on the same chest,

Tic-tac-ing to time. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

The chest will beat too fast

Questioning things that stuck on the roof

The inch of us creates warmth in me

The extra-turbo-wind are thrown away

On the mound of soil have been dug

Inner anger, oftentimes, yes

‘Why do I be like this?’

‘Why can I be like that?’

‘Why should I do things beyond the sense?’

‘I am part of that nonsense.’

afterwards. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

The Piercing Sunlight

Staring at details around the whites.

Falling down the eyes over the blues.

Meeting the eyes with smiles.

“Are you alright? Yes, I am.”

Being pulled up from nowhere.

The greens encircle the sight.

Cinnamon scent sparks the light. 

The melodic wind over the sea,

melts the heart. 

[britainmonroeb-w]

being sticked by the sweetener,

standing the head above the sun,

pouring the heart under the sun,

bleeding the reds out.

i am running on my rainbow,

i start from the purple,

i jump to the yellow,

but i fall to the blue.

millions sixth letter coming out from mouth,

lights out above the head,

upside down-blue-smiley painted,

living with no pain tinted.

[britainmonroeb-w]

What hat you have chosen, the place you belong to.

Coming in to room full of butterflies,

shadowing every inch of your top of mind.

You were jumping from this to that,

giggling until you cannot hear yourself.

The unrecognized side,

The surprising side,

The unacceptable side,

The disturbing side,

That temporary-light suddenly died,

Water was bubbling around your head,

Unlocking the locked-door,

Trespassing the rounded wall.

[britainmonroeb-w]

Sometimes you can be too happy and full of laughter, 5 seconds after that; you can be so gloomy.

Just like an electricity being taken from its source, you can see the dropping number on the voltameter.

[britainmonroeb-w]

Those expectation should be buried, We ain’t an alarm for anybody,  I even snooze my own alarm.  It was red by 5 slaps landed on my cheeks.  It turned to blue,  Eventually.