The Last Poem of Losers

It’s time for my voice to be heard.

It’s time for my presence to be awaited.

It’s time for my absence to be felt.

It’s time for my cries to be answered.

It’s time for my wish to be granted.
It’s time for my remorse to be pardoned.
It’s time for my sins to be forgiven.
It’s time for my love to be avenged.

Let me meet my Lord in peace.

(Thus, the Losers stared into one another’s eyes—eyes that could only look on blankly, as if tomorrow were merely another second repeating itself, and life would soon forget him. In the end, the world would simply lose the Losers…)

I’m so sorry, moms, dads.
Why were you the first to tie the rope to the gallows?
Regretting an end that was always meant to end?
Or because your own flesh and blood called himself a Loser,
one who deserved to be cast away?

EPILOGUE:

On a dark night, in a corner of the city, no tears fell upon these pages—words almost never read.
After years of wandering, when regret had become utterly meaningless.

 

The Loser was dead… killed, abandoned…
What did you care? 

Who knew he was still there, around you even now?
Once a Loser—living or dead—no one mourned.

Bandung, September 14, 2000

To someone who misses me… you will be mine.

Hopeless.........

Lying After Rejection 

I lay there, stretched across time,
My body heavy with surrender.
Lethargy wrapped around my breath,
Helplessness settling deep in bone.

 

Weak—
Unclaimed.
Unworthy.
A body gone slack,
A pulse barely remembering life.

I kept falling,
Not through space, but through meaning.
Words deserted me.
Dignity dissolved.
Hope died quietly,
And grief finished what it began.

This mortal shell
Held only sorrow.
Joy had long departed,
Leaving wounds
Where the soul once learned to sing.

Still, I asked the dark:
Is there a speck of love
Strong enough to undo disaster,
To lift each torment from my chest,
To cleanse the weight of every sin?

Yet in the end,
I was still lying there—
Breathing, waiting,
Foolish enough to believe
That perfection might arrive
And find me first.

(This poem was written in the quiet aftermath of rejection—when failure felt heavier than it should, and silence spoke louder than reason.)