The reader accepts, on reading of this disclaimer, that the Internet is a vast wasteland of crap that spews out of human minds. This blog is no different. Any assumptions or conclusions that the reader draws from this blog are not the responsibility of the author, along with any physical or psychological harm that might result from the reading of this blog.
Author
The author is a paranoid, deranged and cynical misanthrope who records snippets of her life so that she will remember them when she grows old and withered. The identities of any names or initials on this blog are based on the assumptions of the reader unless otherwise specified, and the author claims no responsibility for them.
Reality
The author somehow got into medical school. Yes, you of the general public, shudder and fear the wrath of an inept doctor.
Loves
Reading, Maisy (my dog), tea, writing (albeit badly), piano, music, junk food.
Hates
Almost everything else besides the things mentioned above.
Friends
Bao Cheng' Bernice' Chien Young' Chun Hing' Claire' Faustina' Felicia' Ferly' Gloria' Irene' Irene & Jiaying' Jac' Jiamin' Jiasin' Jiaying' Lutheng' Karene' Marissa' Melesa' Mingyi' My fictionpress' Pamelia' Pei Rong' Qiu Ting' Rachel' Satires Site' Stasia' Sylvia' The Clique' Vinette' Wenjia' Xin Rong' Xue Ying' Yanne & I' Yanne & Jamie' Zeena' 203'
Archives
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05/01/2014 - 06/01/2014
Chat area
Since I have nothing to blog about unless you want me to talk about how a person coughs and coughs and coughs (have I said cough yet?), or sniffles and sniffles and sniffles away (I am sure you get the idea), I will not do anything except put a poem and haiku I wrote last night up. Enjoy.
The Rose Petal
Pink, soft, tender,
The rose petal
Cupped in my tiny hands.
Fallen from a half-withered rose
The laments of it alikened
To that of a ghost's.
Half a butterfly's wing
Rests on that hand of mine
Though dead, still beautiful.
Fragrance lingering
In the air, accusing,
Pointing a finger at the guilty.
Veins branching out
From the white of the rose petal,
The colours meld to form a gradient.
Sides curled towards the
Heart of the pink sheet
Closing up, keeping away from the world.
Fallen, trampled on and
Once alive, now
Floating by with the breeze.
That's the poem, and this is the haiku. Notice that both are similar as they are about nature. Take it that I am mad, for no one ever expected me to appreciate nature.
That's all folks. And sorry if the words of the haiku are rather hard to be seen as my sense of colour combination is really.... (fill in the blank for yourself. Worth 20 marks).
5:01 PM