Timothy Hong

I am an oppressed prisoner
Training to be something I’m not
Working my brain to a festering rot
Worthless activities to brainwash me
I wait for the night I’ll flee
For I am an oppressed prisoner

I couldn’t think when I was around you
And I still can’t
I couldn’t truly be myself when I was around you
And I still can’t
I couldn’t understand what it was when I was around you
And I still can’t
Thoughts used to flood my mind when I was around you
And they still do
My feelings used to go crazy when I was around you
And they still do
My heart beat used to speed when I was around you
But not anymore
I used to be happy when I was around you
But not anymore
Now I miss you and your smile
Now I’m more serious
Now I’m dead

Fluttering in the trees he went
Drinking in the sunlight like a vent
Dashing to and fro in a blink
He grew large only to soon shrink
Silent as my footsteps
He jumped, slid, and leaped
My shadow goes
The darkness roams

What does it mean to be unique?
Philosophers all searched to no avail
All are unique just like everyone else
But the one question that still prevails
Is, “How can we all be so unique?”

Light can be refrained
Light can be reflected
Light can be refracted

Light can be seen
Light can be beamed
Light can be cleaned

Light can be caught
Light can be bought
Light can be fought

This is what light is

A pun may have two meanings
One may have two learnings
Or also have two cleanings

You can shine something to gleaming
You may find a pun while gleaning

This all must answer “What is a pun?”

Oh how I despise homework
As if anything, I had learnt

Those classes like English
I’d rather be catching fish
There I would not miss
Those classes like English Continue reading “Oh How I Despise Homework”

Flippity flappity go its wings
Golden and brown are its rings

A bird who flies free in the sky
Where one who sees it cannot deny Continue reading “A Bird”

What is life? What is strife?
Some would say life is time
Others that life is a bind

Although life is not kind
Many do not ever mind
The answer is hard to find
All of us are so blind

Life is full in a pine
forever I shall try and grind
To find the meaning of what is mine

Home is where I wish to be
Home is where I cannot be
Home is how I know I’m me
Home is what I cannot see

Nowhere on earth is my home
how can one be so alone?
One of these days I know though
I’ll say, “Heaven is my home.”