UNTITLED

That afternoon the sky hides longing
So is my heart that has tired of waiting

I fall,...
Collapse,...
I'm fragile ...

If I am fluent translating feelings
Then this is not a secret
But I know, I don't know anything

I whispered to the noisy sky
Although cracked, like a moon split
I found the answer from the southern breeze

"Let, Stop" All the question was a trap deliberately desire folded
"Please, Stop" Everything is a question of a dream sequence shackled "

I choose the door of destiny
I take the key of fate
And I picked my own choice

Let it bitter...
Let it gentle...
Let it sour...

And that means .. LIFE

Poetry is a little word with a hidden magical spell

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