Typical of Koh’s style, the language is direct and accessible ("simple lines"), but it carries deeper emotional weight, inviting the reader to "linger long enough" to find the underlying revelation.

You have to love the way it hurts, The thorn that breaks the skin. For every prince who tastes the gold, The shell must cave within.

The “prince” is the durian’s loving epithet (the King of Fruits), but also a metaphor for the privileged consumer—the tourist, the colonial officer, the modern capitalist. To taste the gold (wealth, exotic experience, postcolonial guilt), the shell of one’s own identity must “cave within.” In other words, you cannot consume the Other without your own protective shell collapsing.

Koh’s work is frequently anthologized alongside other "Singapore voices" to help students connect with their heritage. His poetry collection, Two Baby Hands

Koh concludes with a masochistic aphorism. This is not a call to sadism, but to acceptance. Love, truth, and cultural understanding are not sterile. They draw blood. The “thorn” is the reality principle—it reminds you that pleasure is intertwined with pain.