A lamp post.
Light reflects through the window.
Trees shadows.
A firefly.
Closed museum,
Vacant tables and chairs of a café,
One pack of cigarette.
A book.
–
A girl sitting alone.
Struggling to write—
To fill in the emptiness inside her.

She lit the last stick,
  Playing with the smoke

She is lost
And sick.

Of laughter’s by a nearby crowd

Through the bushes hides a cicada

Singing the song of the night.
…

Stop staring at the sky
There are no falling stars to wish upon.

Go home.

Before loneliness struck your heart

No one wants you.

And your bed is a deathbed waiting for you.