Even in free summers,
I shiver with the cold of winters
in the corner of my room.
Even in sparkling spring,
I taste the loneliness of autumn
in the corner of my room.
Even in bright festivals,
I drown in dullness
in the corner of my room.
Even in a room full of living people,
I am dead........
in the corner of my room.
Turning my frustrations into poem