the other side of singapore

there seems to be a seperation
from this life and the next,
where i speak in 3rd person,
respond in 1st,
realise in 2nd.

how a leopard changes its spots
to blend into the crowd;
watching, waiting
for someone with a similar shade.
i spoke in time, in sync,
to sieve out what they knew.
we had little in common,
so i made much of the little left.
and it worked.
for a moment
i made friends,
i met the one,
but never knew.

they say distance makes the heart grow fonder –
no, just stranger.
the lingo spoke to me,
was there an error in translation?
i caught the meaning,
but not the little imperfection,
the cracks that made them whole.

and as i sit here,
on an artificial turf,
looking upon the familiar strangers,
i wonder how much of me
would bleed the colours
i swore i knew

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