#ohcapella

[ohcapella]

I’m open for commission ✨🌷

[ohcapella]

01/31/2018|04:38AM|shape my heart

My heart shapes into something beautiful. Like the sun when its summer. Shine like the way it used to be. I said to myself; don't let the rock broke you down, like its storm coming and trying to make you ugly.

[ohcapella]

[ohcapella]

little help for little dreamer..

I feel empty. like what I’m gonna do today?. abandoned college task all over my dirty floor. paint from my last college task everywhere. in my hand in my dirty laundry. my body craving for food. my language no longer can be understood by hooman. my bed hold me close and watching Taz spoken word poetry. my phone showing last app I used to take a picture of my shoes case with a flowers behind it. my body need something to wake and make dreams happen. but I do nothing. just breath, am I still alive? I know there is so much opportunities in past 3 days but I do nothing. But the chances is now. I have to live it now. maybe tomorrow I wake up feeling passionate and carefree. I don’t wanna waste another opportunity, and maybe I’m too scared to dream? I hope not. so I’m gonna do now is start my day breakfast with instan noodle. cheers!

[ohcapella]

(not) about him

my poetry isn’t about him

my flowers isn’t from him

my bed isn’t build from his legs

my breakfast isn’t made by his smile

its all about the mother nature

its skies

its flowers

its forest

its garden

[ohcapella]

2/19/2018|00:27|tired of expecting thing

I should've trust myself When we first meet. On rainy day Feet full of muds This wrong I should've expect To the sky, hoping its always beautifully blue To the earth, hoping its always comfy and warm To the boy I met one month ago on coffee shop, hoping he will protect you from the storm But at the end, You expected too high Cause he now with somebody else, Under the yellow umbrella holding hands All you can do is crying with the sky. I'm tired, expecting people Expecting thing.

[ohcapella]

1/04/2018|03:49|the coldness

My roses getting withered. My book covered with ashes. My blanket can not handle the coldness So do my heart.

[ohcapella]

Stories from a stranger

he told me: his favorite colour he told me: he used to paint within smile and joy he told me: he loved to draw monstera he told me: he liked to read old story he told me that he never paint his favorite colour again I asked why and he told me; she was gone; he was broken; he stayed with his black canvas in the middle of the rain. -OhCapella 01/16/2018