I'll be travelling 4 hours to Penang later this afternoon to wake up at 6 am on Sunday to visit ancestors I do not know. I mean their graves. Somewhere deep in me I feel a rushing sense of Chinese-ness filling my blood vessels... which auspiciously is red. Funny though that I would feel this way about Qing Ming when I couldn't be bothered about Chinese New Year traditions.

She drew her lips a crimson red
Her reflection was the perfect babe
The night was young, it was her own
And she stepped out on heels, a shining gold
She had the whole world in her hands
The cash, the looks, it was all to grand
But her smile played mask to a hidden fear
Of happiness she could not secure
She has everything
But nothing in her grasp
She has everything
But no love in her heart
She can go searching and searching
Till she feels satisfied
Till she does realise
The love in herself
And she lets the wind brush through her hair
As she passes the boys, all of them stare
It isn't enough she's the queen of glam
This isn't good enough, it's all a scam
Her past is a blur she wants to forget
She thinks she's better off now wearing contacts
Serious and studious that isn't her life
No one got anywhere without a fight
She has everything
But nothing in her grasp
She has everything
But no love in her heart
She can go on searching and searching
Till she feels satisfied
Till she does realise
The love in herself

I don't know if you've already guessed who this poem is about. It's really such a pity at how blind she was... the person she wanted to be eventually destroyed her. I wonder if she's happy now