Preposterous Schedule

The pathetic pace of sixth form is boring my bones!

HELP!

I need a tub of ice cream.

Is it wrong to long,

For conversation meek?

Its gentle and sweet manners,

Can surely tidy the unstrung lace.

Singers but cry with the most awful voices,

Which depletes the very sense of nature,

Monstrosity at every angle and every edge of the word,

Leaves silent stars hanging.

The pantomime begins,

And between pillars of what were gold,

Stuck, you find yourself,

Between brass and iron,

Rusted to the core,

Oh, hope, why have you left?

Is this the portion, mine violin plays,

The saddest tune it can find?

Hiding religiously behind strings

In beds of dead harmonies

I cry,

For once again I am left alone,

Behind a snarling game.

Ah, resistance never tasted this bad

It quite overwhelming to fight against the urge. I flick my eyes around precariously, sometimes just wishing it would light up and sing its familiar song.

But it doesn't.

At one end, I am very happy. The desires have been addressed and thing are seemingly calm. Ah, yes, we must but learn to render the tender and feisty one, locked up deep inside.

Yet on the other hand, there is a deep long to have another 49 minutes and 55 seconds.

I feel sucker punched by retrospect and its buddies.

Life is mostly made out of failed attempts and sprinkled with few successes.

I believe it is only because God knows we learn through mistakes, and that success tends to stop us from pushing forward and makes us comfortable where we are.

The first I.U I ever enjoyed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

SHAHEENA GOT A DATE.

HIS NAME IS ALBERT.

*****

Now that that's done, let me get to the point. I went for the International Understanding Day organized by SS17, and it is probably the most enjoyable one I've ever been for. The emcees were good. He even beat boxed.
That's him and a random dude, just beat boxing.
Then came Puteri and dazzled us with our voice. She's got so much stamina that the big bad wolf would have kalah to her in a puffing competition.
Beer. Yes, it's beer. Why don't you believe me? It is beer. Come one I'm not joking. It's and Irish theme, they got to have BEER. Stop looking at me like that. IT'S BEER.

Oh, you think it's BEER beer is it?

ROOT BEER LAR!
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMM SENG!

(substituted with scanto)

Daphne with the toast.
Girls who can dance, a good dance, not some average booty shaking. But good moves, the way they moved with the music and manipulation of tempo, very innovative.
Break for food, we took a form 6 picture. It looks like a cover picture for a drama series simply because of Jonjon's pose.
Sama pose. Haha. Looks so cool.
This band had a guitarist who ran and jumped across the stage. I call them the Cuties.
A duet. Nicely done.
Basil and Hafiz from Fly fm. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
The dance off. Entertainment.
I particularly liked this acoustic trio.
Kutti's stimulated face.
The men shaking their feet.

It was an absolutely shamrocking. Twas, nice. Good job to the organizers. They did an awesome job. Woohoo!

Failure bared its fangs.

You couldn't tame a lion.

Not for all the peanuts in the world.

Don't opt for an alternative,

Tigers prove capable carnivores too.

Not this is not a poem,

It is a reminder,

Gentle not in its nature.

I choose not to be subtle.

If you want to feed meat to the hungry,

You must be worthy of butchery,

To be worthy of butchery,

You must first know the meat.

Know the meat. Get your butt down and study.

Embracing the inspirational moment.

The grinning pandemic is back and I do not know why, but I feel like writing. Aaaah, write... write... write...

Willows have but only withered like arms, dangling,

Proving only worth the windy moment,

When they sway, singing,

They dance embracing time as it is.

If only I could sit among them,

And lie, basking and replaying every moment,

It would rid the fact and help console the urge,

To once again meet that lovely creature.

For it cuts desires into a million pieces,

And scatters it across the scorching Sun,

Burning up every possibility,

Even so if by chance opportunity comes,

It leaves me very unsatisfied.

It is a never ending desire, you see,

And I believe,

That alone with my trees,

Fellow inhabitants of similar identity,

Will find peace.

I'm not Chinese.

I like the language, I like speaking it and confusing others (as I do to myself) but that doesn't make me a burnt Chinese.

To the industrious spammer of my comment box, please STOP!

Yield thyself from commenting any further as I do not comprehend a single character. Ming bai?

Sie sie ni.