You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.

It feels like something unwanted stuck in my throat,
Preventing my voice to be loud and clear,
Making my breathing difficult,
My brain keeps on telling me to cut it open,
That unwanted thing is better gone.
Once I cut it open,
Will I be freed too?

It’s not much I know,
Only a piece of paper,
For us to colour.

The heavens were mad,
So the clouds thickened and rained,
Tearing on the earth.

Sometimes, we lose our minds, in hopes to understand them.
Sometimes, we lose someone, as we try to do the same thing.

We desire mutual understandings,
Yet spare no effort in understanding,
And fear that when we are understood.

There’s a universe inside of you,
But I’m just a little star.
Once my light is out,
There'll be none of me.