The impassive God show his form,
whom rule the man with an old norm,
within the use of two cold finger
to command man where to linger.
His order in the circle of twelve stones harbinger.
Life of human is in pity upon his role as the arbiter.
Above the walls of human, he sits upon the throne,
For all the sins which had been sown
humans commanded to atone
So he put them all in a loan!
"Past!" He proclaim the great word
Doused in regret, humans cries mercy upon their lord.
Yet, He is cruel, and proclaim another law,
"Future!" the word uttered from his jaw.
Man shock and awe to hear they will cease
they build their ignorance, piece by piece.
Collectively they unify within a lie
of Mass Vanity, someday they will not die.

As the red sun sets,
Change into the cold dark night,
the moon rises to my sight
represent as a beacon into my blight.

Of these memories, of you and I.
Reminisce binds me,
words, so suddenly astound,
fabricate into sentences, which

Fit into us.

Inventing the common pattern of a tragic story
-Of a thousands words of no and none of the yes,
But it’s better to regret than to die deeply in a story.

Once again, beneath the shade of moon as my witness,
To testify against my ungodly blindness,
My mind and body will finally be ready,
For another repression to make me steady

try, try, and try
dig a hole
deep enough to fill
severed bridges.
dig, dig, and dig  
my face is drenched,
not from the rain,
realize-no hole big enough
to swallow the sea.

When such beauty, buried under a tomb
Now, it is time for flowers to bloom,
Their roots now drenched in blood of the fresh
Are we not deluded by this rotting flesh?
Of sockets filled with holes
Of bodies marked by knives
Of dreams stained with souls
Of hearts suffers in lives.

For too long, i have wept upon this grave.
Fresh soil which given Life to many beings,
so long till the roses have grown upon my tears.
Filled with ideals, and too my lost of hope.

As i stood and gaze upon its headstone,
look long and weary upon her name,
fleeting memories and memoirs,
blown by the words of ‘If’.

and now i realized
How tired have i become?
for wasting tears
On an empty casket.