园 home digital scribbles about me contact about me. Hello there! I'm Mae , an impressionist human (because I love Impressionism but am not an artist, hence human) whose eardrums may be partially damaged from listening to music excessively. Writing is something I do to ditch my assignments, hence I decided to take this hobby of mine to another level by creating a website just for my poems, or what I like to call them, digital scribbles . I write about anything that comes to mind, putting to good use the four years of studying Literature in secondary school and a whole lot of creativity. If you are reading this, thank you for stopping by! xx

园 home digital scribbles about me contact JPB FTOWWSS SDNS digital scribbles poems, prose, lyrics, word vomit, etc... Just Passing By (poem.) Falling in love with a person whom you thought loved you. For The One Who Writes Sad Songs (poem.) Who hurt you? Simon Does Not Say (poem.) Society is our biggest enemy. poems paper can't handle (poem.) Hating the different sides you discovered about yourself. Sandman (poem.) I wish the waves can bring me home. what if mirrors lie? (poem.) What is real? PPCH S WIML N&AME (poem.) The gift of our name. can't breathe (poem.) An endless cycle. the sunset is beautiful, isn't it? (poem.) Why over the sun's farewell glow? N&AME can't breathe TSIBII Document Promise (poem.) From the perspective of a falling leaf Plastic Love (poem.) Unrealistic expectations of an ideal lover The Opposite Train (poem.) I finally fulfilled my wish of being in the opposite train Promise Plastic Love TOT enough (poem.) He loves me, he loves me not. i want another picture of the sunset (poem.) Why I take pictures of sunsets the girl she'll never see again (poem.) I wondered if she wonders about me as I did about her. enough IWAPOTS TGSNSA Self Portrait (poem.) A poem about self reflection and observation life's countdown (poem.) To disappear, like fireworks When Love Is Gone, Where Does It Go? (poem.) I would rather not. SP where to? (poem.) Taxi rides at midnight overthinking like an overflowing bathtub (poem.) Any longer, and I'll only drown myself night nest (poem.) A poem about my beloved bed shhh... something is brewing ☕️ WT?

< Back Promise We hold on dearly to our roots, knowing what will become of us someday. A beautiful phenomenon, graceful descent, whilst losing everything we’ve ever had.

< Back Self Portrait I think I lost count of the number of self portraits I have. Self portraits deeper than skin-deep, of the reflection inside of me. I paint as I unveil the layers, stripping myself to the core. She looks different, the person I was today. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be a little more perfect.

园 home digital scribbles about me contact Want to say hello? 📧 fiveodes@gmail.com 🌐 @fiveodes i don't bite, i promise ;)

FIVEODES (n.) a collection, archive, dump of words strung together, by accident, on purpose. FIVEODES ? ¿ i'm sorry i never loved you... i was just passing by no, we don't just got five odes. a compilation of digital scribbles ＊ 。+ · ❀ 。✧

< Back the sunset is beautiful, isn't it? Why is it that when someone tells you, “The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”, it means that they love you but they’re letting you go? Why over the sunset, before the sun’s farewell glow? Will it bring to light your plight, or make the future you saw together look like nothing but a bleak silhouette? Just because the sunset was beautiful that day.

< Back For The One Who Writes Sad Songs I envy your mind. I ponder your past. Which is the one behind those words? So deep, so real. Who hurt you?

< Back N&AME (Now & At My End) a gift from birth, or a weight till death the union of letters we are bound to the sound we identify as

< Back what if mirrors lie? do mirrors tell the truth, or do they give us the power to make up stories in our heads that we choose to believe?

< Back where to? a wave crashes onto the coast of darkness, carrying along a traveller of the night to the place he ought to be. unloading luggages, stories, and all exchanges of secrets, the wave retreats back to the sea, in search of it’s next passenger.

< Back enough you throw the flower with its last petal on the ground after the seventh one said, “he loves you”.