If I was a dress;
I will cut myself;
If I was lion;
I’ll roar like a monster;
If these threads are worn out;
I might cut again;
My life is a puzzle;
My mind is a labyrinth;
My endless lies;
O’ this poem’s about me?
It’s a tragic accident;
I’ve gone too pale;
My blood dries up;
By the midnight rain;
My skin’s decaying;
I’ve gone too far;
Maybe this is my end;
I’ll take a bow.