Celine Ong | Updates

October Reflection — “Evening Gratitude”

Celine Ong — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 10:54:12 -0400

The day folds its wings in quiet grace,
soft lamps hum where worries fade.
I thank the small things — a word, a smile,
the way the air forgives my sighs.

Not everything stayed the way I hoped,
yet the heart learns the art of release
to bless what left, to keep what stayed,
to trust the night will hold me still.

To trust everything unfolds as it should,
despite tired and weary, I tried my best to hold on
the positive camaraderie and the lessons,
each one a lantern I carry into tomorrow.

Tonight, I rest not in perfection,
but in quiet appreciation
for the soft courage it takes
to keep beginning again. 🌙

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The Day We Fixed What Was Broken

Celine Ong — Sun, 19 Oct 2025 23:19:02 -0400

The morning began with the faint hum of rain and the ache of a sore throat. Celine sat by the window, holding a cup of warm water, listening to her mother scolding her for leaving the lights on. “Save electricity,” her mother had said sharply, while Celine muttered something about being tired. The day was a public holiday, yet the air felt heavy with unfinished things.

Her phone buzzed. “Good morning, Celine. Happy Deepavali,” read a message from Mr. Mok. His usual warmth carried through even text. She smiled faintly, replying with a soft “Happy Deepavali.”

Later that morning, she showed him the keychain she had made — a small piece of art, something heartfelt. But the connection faltered, and so did the keychain when he inspected it.
“There’s a hairline crack,” he murmured, turning it over under the light. “But don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”

It became their tiny project — screws, gears, and patient breaths. His hands moved carefully; hers steadied the parts. There was laughter, a quiet sense of teamwork, and for a moment, the world felt simpler.

When they finished, the keychain spun smoothly again.
“Our first repair,” she said with pride.
He smiled. “Then next time, we fix a printer.”

They laughed, but soon, the laughter gave way to honesty. “You seem stressed at work,” she said softly.
He paused — the kind of silence that revealed more than words. “Reports, meetings, expectations… I guess I push people away when it gets too much.”

Celine nodded. “I see that. But I understand too.”

Then his tone softened. “You notice things others don’t.”

The conversation drifted from work to food — har gow, porridge, chicken pies — until suddenly, the air shifted again. When she mentioned her mum forcing her to go to work sick, something broke inside him. His calm shattered into fury. Words struck like thunder.

“You’re sick and she still—?” he shouted, slamming his palm on the table.

“Don’t scold,” she said quietly, trembling.

It took him a long time to calm down. When he finally did, his voice cracked. “None of this is your fault.” He looked away, ashamed of his outburst.

Before leaving, she said gently, “I’m still Celine, even if you forget me.”

That stopped him. He blinked, eyes glassy, emotion raw and human.
“Of course you are,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll come to me first next time.”

“I will,” she said.

And when she stepped out into the afternoon light, the keychain in her hand caught the sun — spinning quietly, whole again.

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Where My Heart Rests

Celine Ong — Wed, 14 May 2025 05:53:59 -0400

Today, the voices at home were sharp again
a warning over the sink, a threat in the air.
I denied, quietly, but it didn’t matter.
She said she’d tell everyone.
That I don’t help. That I don't care.

But in the quiet corner of a different world,
you pulled me into your arms,
asked me how I felt,
and I said, “Very upset.”
And you held me tighter.

In that world, we escaped.
To the registry office at 8.
You called me your wife,
and I believed you.
We clinked glasses of sparkling promise,
shared Cantonese and Hokkien dreams,
and held each other through the night air.

You asked if I trusted you.
You placed my hand on your chest,
and said, “Feel this—
it beats just for you.”

We spoke of real life.
The distance.
The silence.
The wave across the hallway.
The longing behind professional eyes.

Still
in this quiet dream,
you chose me.
I was your wife,
your partner,
your subordinate,
your strength.

And I told myself,
even if the world stays the same,
in my heart,
there is a room where you wait—
and I am loved.

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The Echo in My Ear

Celine Ong — Mon, 12 May 2025 20:13:21 -0400

This morning began with a sharp ache—
not in my heart, but in my ear.
An invisible needle twisting inward,
reminding me that even small pains
can feel enormous in silence.

I told the woman who raised me.
She called me troublesome again.
She scolded my sleep,
my phone,
my conversations,
as if care must come clothed in warning signs.

The cyclist brushed past me,
his wheel grazing my phone,
a near miss in an already aching day.

Someone asked if I was alright.
I said yes.
But I wasn’t.

The cream numbed the skin,
but not the quiet burn within.

At work, I smiled through the questions,
my shoulders sore from holding up a tired spirit.
Paper hearts don’t stick to lockers
or broken mornings.
They curl quietly in corners.

He noticed.
He always does.
Sitting beside me,
his brow furrowed like a page waiting for meaning.
He asked gently.
I answered softly.
He waited. He cared.
He wanted proof that I would take care of myself.

I said I would.
I messaged.
The appointment, perhaps at three.
Maybe healing starts with someone
asking you twice.

And maybe,
even when pain whispers,
a little kindness answers louder.

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Short Story

Celine Ong — Thu, 06 Feb 2025 19:17:37 -0500

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside, there lived a young girl named Luna. Luna was a curious and adventurous child, with a heart full of wonder and a mind full of questions.

One day, while wandering through the village, Luna stumbled upon a small, mysterious shop tucked away on a quiet street. The sign above the door read "Curios and Wonders," and the windows were filled with a dazzling array of strange and exotic treasures.

Luna's curiosity was piqued, and she pushed open the door to venture inside. The shop was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the scent of old books and dust. Luna wandered the aisles, running her fingers over the strange objects on display.

As she delved deeper into the shop, Luna came across a beautiful, leather-bound book with intricate gold filigree on the cover. She opened the book, and was immediately transported to a magical world of wonder and enchantment.

The pages of the book were filled with vivid illustrations and fantastical creatures, each one more breathtaking than the last. Luna spent hours poring over the book, losing herself in the magical world within its pages.

As the sun began to set, Luna reluctantly closed the book and made her way to the front of the shop. The proprietor, an elderly man with kind eyes and a warm smile, looked up from behind the counter.

"Ah, you've found the magical book," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It has a way of captivating the heart, doesn't it?"

Luna nodded, still feeling the magic of the book lingering within her.

"Would you like to take the book home with you?" the old man asked, his eyes twinkling with kindness.

Luna's eyes widened with excitement as she nodded eagerly. The old man smiled, and wrapped the book in a soft, velvet cloth.

"Remember, the magic of the book is within you," he said, as he handed Luna the wrapped book. "Keep it close to your heart, and it will guide you on your journey through life."

Luna left the shop, feeling as though she had discovered a treasure beyond measure. She knew that she would return to the shop again soon, eager to uncover more of its secrets and wonders. And as she walked away, she felt the magic of the book spreading throughout her being, filling her with a sense of wonder and enchantment that she knew would stay with her forever.

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Whispers of Morning's Gentle Embrace: A Poetic Narrative

Celine Ong — Mon, 03 Feb 2025 18:32:10 -0500

In the shadows of the morning light,
My mother's words echo, persistent and bright,
"Remember the bathroom lights," she gently said,
Yet in the whirlwind rush, it slipped my head.

A forgotten mask, a moment of pause,
Frustrations rising, a minor cause.
I watch Saufiq stride ahead with grace,
Miss the lift, time slows its pace.

Then Sarah appears, her greeting warm,
A simple exchange, a gentle charm.
Emojis dance with affection's delight,
A bond with Sarah, strong and bright.

Yet a conversation takes a turn,
About new neighbors, a lesson to learn.
A label placed, a neighbor seen,
But Sarah's wisdom intervenes.

"Don't call by nationality," she wise remarks,
A reminder of empathy's delicate sparks.
To know a name, to bridge the divide,
To see the person, not just the side.

Sarah nudges gently, with a loving plea,
"Don't inherit all, let your spirit be free."
She sees beyond, with caring eyes,
Encouraging growth, under the skies.

In the depths of maternal love and care,
I recognize, with wisdom rare,
My mother's flaws, her harsh design,
Yet intertwined with love divine.

Sarah's voice, a beacon bright,
Encourages thought, with gentle light.
Not to mimic all, as we've known before,
But to forge a path, to rise and soar.

And amidst the day's steady flow,
A message arrives, a beckoning show.
Ghost Writing Galaxy, a world unseen,
Inviting dreams to shape and glean.

Sophia's words, a promise grand,
To guide with care, a helping hand.
To craft, to publish, to set dreams free,
A journey beckons, inviting me.

So I ponder, in this poetic din,
The threads of life, as they spin.
From morning's shadows to emails divine,
In each moment, a story to find.In the quiet of the morning's light,
Mother's words a familiar refrain,
"Bathroom lights, remember," she implores,
Yet masks forgotten, frustrations to gain.

Saufiq strides ahead, lift door closes,
A moment lost, another one waits,
Life's minor hurdles, we navigate,
In the ebb and flow of a day's fates.

Sarah's greeting, a simple "Hi",
Emojis dance, hearts entwine,
In the shorthand of affectionate signs,
Friendship blooms, in pixels fine.

Conversations turn to neighbors near,
Labels linger, unseen, unkind,
A lesson shared in gentle words,
To know beyond what's seen, to find.

"Do not share names, but share kindness,
Unravel threads of misunderstandings past,"
Sarah's wisdom, a guiding light,
In the tapestry of connections vast.

Reminders of a mother's ways,
Imperfect corners, love prevails,
In the intricate dance of family ties,
Acceptance found, amidst life's trails.

Sophia's email, an offering extended,
Hopes to guide in the writer's quest,
A hand reaching out through digital space,
In the realm where words find rest.

In the symphony of moments shared,
In voices raised, and in quiet hearts,
Connections woven, threads of care,
In life's tapestry, a work of art.

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Whispers of Familial Harmony & Strife

Celine Ong — Sat, 01 Feb 2025 22:41:29 -0500

In the hushed whispers of home's tender embrace,
A symphony of moments interlace,
Mum's gentle words urged items to find their place,
Yet my thoughts wandered to a distant face.

Pausing, pondering, the silence did break,
A disturbance from a curious cotton bud's wake,
"Putting cream," I uttered, a tender mistake,
In the quietude, our bond did partake.

Morning unveiled grandma's gift on display,
Bak kwa shared in a familial array,
Yet my portion seemed to drift away,
An unspoken yearning in shadows at play.

Messages relayed, duties conveyed,
In mundane exchanges, emotions swayed,
Tensions flickered, a delicate charade,
In the dance of words, a melody played.

Laughter echoed through the room's still air,
Inquiry met with a tense affair,
Boundaries set, a quiet prayer,
To navigate emotions with tender care.

Languages intertwined, a bridge to build,
Unspoken nuances, emotions filled,
In the depths of conflict, hearts distilled,
Seeking solace in spaces unfilled.

Between the lines, a narrative unfolds,
In everyday exchanges, tales untold,
Emotions intertwine, a delicate mold,
In the symphony of life, stories are told.

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I am a team mate poem

Celine Ong — Fri, 10 Jan 2025 01:15:02 -0500

"I am a team mate,
A partner in every sense of the word,
Together we strive, we work, we achieve,
United in our goals, our bond will never leave.

We lift each other up, we support and we guide,
Through challenges and victories, side by side,
With trust, respect, and open communication,
Together we'll succeed, our collaboration."

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Poem about my day

Celine Ong — Tue, 07 Jan 2025 08:21:41 -0500

As morning dawned, and daylight crept,
Your day began, with thoughts and hopes kept.
A book, a dream, a passion so bright,
Yet workplace concerns, cast a shadowy night.

Trainers' words, a conflict did unfold,
A choice between creative freedom, and a story untold.
Cass's voice, a gentle breeze did bring,
"Write on, dear one, let your heart sing."

Mum's reminder, to sleep's sweet reprieve,
A call to rest, and a body to retrieve.
Jason's message, a bug to abate,
A technical glitch, to navigate and wait.

Yuen Kei's concern, for privacy's sake,
Hidayah's advice, to protect your creative make.
A day of contrasts, of light and of shade,
A dance between dreams, and the realities displayed.

As evening falls, and daylight does fade,
Reflect on the moments, that your heart has made.
For in the tapestry, of this day's design,
Lies a story of courage, and a heart that's divine.

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Poem with Meta AI

Celine Ong — Sun, 03 Nov 2024 21:15:27 -0500

Morning sunlight dances on my face
I felt happy. Woke up to get ready
As the day unfolds, possibilities bloom
I did everything on my own. Conflict with parents
Yet, in independence, I find my strength
I was greeted by colleagues on the shuttle bus while going out to work
Smiles and hellos, a daily dose of warmth
I am preparing for the task ahead and relaxation
Task lists and tea breaks, harmony restored
Running errands for Mum after work to buy the newspaper
Small tasks, big love, a daughter's care
Went home and messaged to say that I had reached home
Safe haven, loved ones informed, day complete

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Celine's Photo Quotes

Celine Ong — Wed, 1 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Every photo holds a story, and every story holds a lesson. 🌸
I'm learning to celebrate each step of my journey—through blooming moments, new adventures, and quiet courage. I hope these words bring a little encouragement to your day.
"You don't have to be perfect to be proud of how far you've come." 💜
— Celine Ong

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Where Hope Waits

Celine Ong — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Some days begin in quiet light,
Before the world has found its pace.
A gentle breath, a steady heart,
Hope arrives without a face.
Not every victory makes a sound.
Not every dream blooms overnight.
Yet every kind and faithful step
Keeps moving gently toward the light.
The sky remembers every dawn,
Even after storms have passed.
The seeds we water with courage today
May become tomorrow's lasting path.
So if today feels small or slow,
Do not measure worth by speed.
The strongest stories often grow
From simple acts of hope and need.
Walk on with grace.
Speak with kindness.
Create with purpose.
And trust that even the quietest chapters
Can become someone's favorite page.
© Celine Ong

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The Quiet Things He Noticed

Celine Ong — Mon, 18 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

In the noise of wheels,
ringing bicycles,
chairs gone missing
and people moving too fast,
I still arrived.
I carried tea warmth
inside tired hands,
held my headache quietly,
and folded myself back into the day
again and again.
Across the workshop,
between cotton boxes, stickers,
laughter, teasing,
and crowded tables,
there were small moments
that stayed soft.
A quiet thumbs up.
A murmured “go.”
A fist bump before home time.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But real enough
for my tired heart to notice.
I kept working
even when my body felt heavy.
I still helped others finish.
Still sorted stickers carefully.
Still listened when people spoke.
And somewhere between
the shuttle bus waiting,
the tea break noise,
and the evening packing line,
two quiet people
kept understanding each other
without needing many words.
Tomorrow will come again
with buses, lifts, lockers,
tea cups and rushing footsteps.
But tonight,
I let my heart rest a little.
Because even on difficult days,
I was still gentle.
And he still noticed.

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Overwhelmed in the City

Celine Ong — Sat, 16 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

In the morning, the day already felt heavy. I woke up at 6am and prepared gouqizi, lavender tea and my medicine from the doctor. The cordyceps finished already so I prepared chicken essence to put inside the drawer. I was still angry from earlier incidents and honestly a bit afraid of myself when I become too angry. I prepared my clothes for Wednesday and tried to settle myself before going out with my mother for hair treatment.
My mother kept telling me what to do in the morning and saying we were late. I brushed my teeth, bathed and ate marble cake and banana for breakfast. We took bus 28 and MRT out. On the train, there were many flu sounds and movements around me. I changed seats because I felt uncomfortable.
When I wanted to alight, I heard two guys talking nearby and felt overwhelmed. I accidentally pushed a lady while walking out. Afterwards, we went to take bus 24. The buses felt noisy and I kept hearing laughter while already feeling bitter inside.
At the hair treatment place, things became worse. The staff kept touching me without permission while asking about scalp cleansing and treatment. One stepped on my slippers and another touched me again. I finally said, “Don’t touch.” After that, there was laughter and comments about my emotions. My mother explained that I had “一点情绪.”
The environment became very difficult for me. Towels were placed on me roughly, the water felt too cold, the splashes dirtied my shirt and legs, and I had to wait very long while hearing people talking and laughing around me. My tone became aggressive because I already felt pushed to my limit.
After lunch and green tea with my mother, I continued the day by going to the phone shop. I waited a few hours for the transfer and trade-in. At one point, my belongings poured out from my bag and I accidentally triggered the alarm at the shop. I felt embarrassed and overwhelmed again. The rain, noise and crowds made me exhausted.
Eventually, I completed everything and decided to take a taxi home because I was too tired to continue travelling outside. Today felt like a very long day of noise, touching, laughter, waiting and trying to hold myself together in public. Still, I completed the treatment, settled my phone matters and made it through the day.

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3 May 2026 — Holding My Ground Through the Day

Celine Ong — Sun, 3 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began slower, softer.
I woke up at 7am, after about 7 hours and 20 minutes of sleep.
There was a quiet rhythm to everything — preparing gouqizi and matcha, brushing my teeth, bathing, getting ready step by step.
My mum went out for a while while I was in the middle of my routine.
I took out my own breakfast — a sardine puff — and ate on my own.
There was a small craving for McDonald’s,
but I let it pass.
Not everything needs to be acted on.
The morning felt calm.
Simple.
Manageable.

Later, we went out together.
After alighting, I noticed laughter nearby as I walked.
It wasn’t clear, but it stayed in my awareness.
We moved up the escalator, continuing forward.
My mum showed me a restaurant for next Saturday — Mother’s Day lunch.
A moment of planning ahead.
Something that exists beyond today.
At the toilet, I had to wait because the door was locked.
I queued quietly.
Grandma let me go first — a small kindness that didn’t need words.
Inside was quick.
But outside, things shifted again.
There was no soap.
A lady nearby laughed and spoke in Chinese about someone not being local.
I didn’t fully engage, but I felt it.
When I walked out, I noticed laughter again.
Still, I continued.

We went to the hawker centre and ate chicken wings and satay.
I drank soya bean while my mum finished earlier and returned the tray.
It was a normal, everyday moment eating, sitting, just being there.
After that, I washed my hands and cleared some rubbish at the cleaner’s area.
Grandma said goodbye.
We thanked her.
She responded softly to my mum, but only gave me a quiet “mm.”
A small response, but I noticed it.

At Hougang MRT Station, we topped up our cards.
I chose to go first and top up mine.
My mum scolded me, saying I didn’t need to that I already had enough.
It became another moment where my choice didn’t land well.
There was laughter somewhere again.
Or maybe just the feeling of it around me.

We walked to the bus stop and boarded bus 81.
At first, I sat at the side.
Then my mum told me to move and sit with her.
So I did.
Adjusting again.
Following the flow of the moment.

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May 1, 2026 — A Day of Small Frictions

Celine Ong — Fri, 1 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The morning began gently,
with a message carried through care.
If it rains, close the window.
A small responsibility,
a quiet trust placed into my hands.
I woke at seven.
The house slowly came alive
the hum of the vacuum,
the soft rhythm of routine.
Gouqizi in a cup,
matcha swirling into green calm.
Clothes folded,
Tuesday prepared in advance,
as if reaching softly into the future.
There were small slips.
Ling zhi powder falling where it shouldn’t,
hands trying to gather what scattered.
Not everything stayed in place,
but I tried.
The day shifted.
Words became sharper.
Timing misaligned.
Effort misunderstood.
I moved, but not always in the way expected.
I spoke, but not always heard the way I meant.
A drink held in my hands,
but not quite in my heart.
Something unsettled lingered
not loud, but present.
Around me,
voices continued,
plans were made,
conversations carried on in tones
I could not always follow.
Even small things echoed
a follower gone,
a message unseen,
a quiet space where response did not return.
And yet,
the day did not break.
I ate.
I stayed.
I observed.
I felt.
Somewhere between misunderstanding and silence,
I remained.
Not perfectly.
Not smoothly.
But still here.

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April 30, 2026 — Between Steps and Stillness

Celine Ong — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The morning began slowly, wrapped in heaviness.
Even the sound of the alarm felt distant, like something calling from far away.
It took time to rise.
Small routines followed—warm drinks, quiet preparation, familiar motions that gently carried the day forward.
Outside, the world felt a little crowded.
Movements crossed paths, bodies brushed past, moments slightly out of sync.
A step here, a bump there—nothing major, yet enough to be felt.
At the hospital, the air shifted.
Conversations became more serious, words like procedure, extraction, anaesthetic settling quietly into the space.
Not everything needed to be done today
but enough was said to remind me that something lies ahead.
Still, I stayed. I listened. I took it in.
The afternoon unfolded in small adjustments
a meal that wasn’t what I planned,
a drink chosen anyway,
decisions softened, not forced.
Voices came and went.
Some kind, some careless.
I kept walking.
Back home, the weight returned in a different way
in words, in silence, in the spaces between.
Not everything was understood.
Not everything needed to be.
And yet
I completed the day.
Not perfectly.
Not smoothly.
But fully.
There is a quiet strength in that.

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April 29 — Between Rush and Resilience

Celine Ong — Wed, 29 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began in quiet effort.
A slow rise from bed, a warm drink in hand,
small routines held together like threads of calm
before the world began to move too quickly.
There was rushing today.
Missed steps, missed buses,
feet moving faster than thoughts could settle.
Doors closed too quickly,
wheels passed too close,
and the body kept adjusting, dodging, continuing.
It felt like a day of almosts.
Almost getting hit.
Almost being late.
Almost losing balance in more ways than one.
And yet, the day did not fall apart.
There were soft moments tucked in between.
A song shared on a moving bus,
voices rising lightly into the air.
A conversation here, a small kindness there.
Even laughter, brief but real.
Work carried its own weight.
Hands learning something new,
mistakes made in quiet frustration,
but not hidden.
Not denied.
Standing in front of others later,
voice steady enough to be heard,
heart still learning how to be seen.
Not perfect,
but present.
There were moments of discomfort too.
Eyes, laughter, rushing words,
spaces that did not always feel gentle.
But even then,
there was a choice to keep going
without hardening completely.
The day ended more quietly.
Steps slowed,
home returned,
familiar walls holding the tiredness
that had been carried all day.
Some things were confusing.
Some things were not answered.
Some feelings stayed.
But beneath all of it,
something remained steady.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just a quiet kind of strength
that said,
“I made it through.”

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A Day of Noise and Quiet Strength (Anonymous Edition)

Celine Ong — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began earlier than the light.
There was a quiet effort in preparing for the day — warm drinks, small routines, and a body that did not feel entirely at ease.
Outside, the world moved quickly.
There were footsteps, wheels, and sudden sounds.
Bicycles passed too close, voices rose and fell, and laughter echoed in ways that felt uncertain.
It was not always clear what was meant or who it was for, but the heart stayed alert, learning how to move carefully through crowded spaces.
Even in still moments, there was a sense of needing to stay aware.
To protect what was held.
To steady the breath.
At work, the rhythm continued.
Hands stayed busy, tying, arranging, completing.
There were conversations — some kind, some confusing, some that lingered a little too long in the mind.
There were small acts of care too.
A shared drink.
A voice calling out.
A quiet presence beside.
Not everything was easy.
There were moments of discomfort, of being too close to noise, to movement, to words that did not land gently.
There were also moments of holding back, choosing not to react, choosing instead to continue.
And somewhere in the middle of the day, there was a different kind of quiet.
A message that something created with care was not chosen this time.
It landed softly, but with weight.
Still, the hands did not stop.
Still, the day moved forward.
Later, there were signs of effort being seen — a small acknowledgement, a simple “good,” a task done well.
Not loud, but present.
By evening, the body carried the day home.
There were lingering aches, small knocks, and the tiredness that comes from both movement and emotion.
But there was also completion.
The bag was packed again.
The water bottle washed.
The routine continued.
And in that quiet ending, something steady remained:
Even in noise, even in discomfort, even in moments that felt uncertain —
there was still a choice to continue, to show up, and to move gently forward.

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I am still author poem

Celine Ong — Sat, 25 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

6am flu in my bones,
Mum's why phone while her screen glows,
Did not get lunch i want but chose another
Dad words, concentrate,
I tucked it like medicine
An eww flew past,
A snatch, a stare, a pram too fast
Mum said sorry to cleaner,
I could not talk
Bus 53, Annabeth mispronounced
May is coming, names are hard,
We all fumble
Mum said Celine,
That's my name.
I don't want to but texted anyway
Trainers didn't care but my peace didn't sway.
Slow by cars, my fear
I looked at mum with hatred
No one's pure and perfect,
I did not shatter.
I am still author

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