only the sense of fleeting time
and the fact that i am almost twenty nine,
years spent,
wandering half a life,
makes me pretend to be wise,
though i am still a careless child,
fond of tales and flirty rhymes,
heedless to the warning chimes,
i can't be different,
nor i can be nice.
No i dont expect you search for me, girl.
for i am not a treasure or a pearl.
read my writings if you want poison for the soul.