I am living with a trace of hope
that you will not see the tears that fall
drop by drop,
drop by drop,
and scared within your heart
you, of course will be not
when softly I shall say:
it was not you, my love.

only then the lie was sold so easy
for there shall fall the tears ahead
until dear heart will contain some courage
to share some secrets and some thoughts.

aren't we all afraid of suffering?
just the verity that we cannot sleep
from the throbbing thoughts
is maintaining us awake a bit more.
and there's the symphony of insomnia.

it's resembling to your screaming
and no one can perceive the sound,
it's a reminiscent of the time
you almost passed out
and no one was there
to offer you a hand.
placing your palm on the cold concrete
and trying to breathe,
deafness from outside noise
although, not from inside
escalating the pumping heart
bom bom
bom bom
bom bom

wake up, it was just a dream!