Good Doctor

Dearest friends, don't give up just yet.

Tomorrow is a new chance to do better.

Because there's just so much

to be a good doctor, isn't there?

I used to think certain qualities of me

that I've never seen before

will be born

during my journey to be a doctor.

But then I found out

actually some qualities

that I've embraced all my life

will have to die.

I thought my sacrifice

would be tears and time.

Turns out my sacrifice is my 'self'

The sacrifice is my expression as a free individual.

I feel like I'm only half living now.

Because dear,

it is the only thing that I know.

Dearest friends, don't give up just yet.

Tomorrow is a new chance to do better.

Because there's just so much

to be a good doctor, isn't there?

-SK

Here's to You and Me

Wake Me Up - Ed Sheeran [cover]

Hi guys!

I've uploaded a new cover on my YouTube channel (Sheilla Khonada), it's a very minimalistic cover, with just simple piano chords arrangement, similar to the original song. I used the application GarageBand for this (no, I wasn't paid to promote GarageBand, I just love the features it offers). Go visit my channel to hear the full version, and also other songs! :D

For full version, here's to direct you to the original cover:

Wake Me Up - Ed Sheeran [cover by Sheilla Kho]

You're Gonna Be Okay

Plastic

I beg thee

do not force bend

a hard soul like me.

Dearest,

What are you made of?

There

were days

I watch many people

of a more softly core -

Plastic;

time-befriending, usage-changing,

mold-complying, quietly-listening,

coat-accepting, color-adjusting,

resilient.

Then there

were nights I watch

as myself unwind and unfold.

Do you, dearest, ever dare ask

whether you are wearing a mask?

Not able to answer,

then emerge my interrogative:

Who am I?

I intently listen

tick tock tick tock

many moons float by

all my senses are ears

I,

hey

hush

shush,

am you

the voice

inside thee.

Thou art alive,

why take worry

aren’t thou free?

I look quietly

“Plastic, maybe

but of what kind?”

but oh dear,

what lies inside me

is not like a plastic, I see.

I touch it

my fingertips bleed!

My good question arrives:

how do plastic stab fingers?

I knock at it

the sound echoes!

My wonder appears:

how do plastic reflect sounds?

I caress it

how cold to the touch!

Can’t be warmed by fire -

How odd is this plastic inside me!

Then

only I realize

it is not plastic after all

Fleets

a single word

through my mind

Crystal.

Now, I understand.

Now, I accept.

Now, I handle with care.

Maybe you are a crystal too?

Or a wood?

It's alright what you're made of

it's what you leave behind that counts.

Dearest,

What are you made of?

but I beg thee

do not force bend

a hard soul like me.


-sheilla kho