Những đứa con bị bỏ lại phía sau mờ dần vào làn sương trắng. Ngày một xa dần. Xa dần. Đến một lúc nào đấy, chúng dừng lại, không còn cố gắng tìm đường về nữa…
There is a feeling I cannot obtain to see the world. There is a question opening my confusion. I was not invited to this world, can I leave this without any trouble?
This poem is nothing but a sear observation of rain and a blink of an eye.
Continue reading “Distance keeps it wronged.”
Blue has its reason to appear on the color of our skies. Darkness has its reason to take over the domination. Assets are put aside when they are no longer useful. Some people depart on their last meaningful expenditure. Left, knowing they are out of use. Died, holding on to their true selves.
Look, the violin.
Something is wrong.
You lie in there.
I don’t feel strong.
But the case is,
you shall be fine.
Take out an awkward feeling.
Take in a thrilling breathing.
As you let it all out
It ended no matter how.
Scorching sun. Unheated heads.
Tears mixed with your sheets.
Drudging retort. Unpleasant pleads.
Thousands of words but none fit in.
Long-winded wishes. But sincere.
Longer steps. Laden tears.
I realized that they
will eventually realize
that they don’t need me.