I don’t know where you come from,
but when I look in the mirror,
it’s not myself anymore.

I don’t remember looking sad,
but the happiest memory I have is,
not being alive.

Perhaps there was a time I saw my reflection as the burning fire of a shooting star,
but right now,
I am not even the small piece of dust that travels through the Earth’s atmosphere.

I wish to see inside myself,
that’s the impossible.

I think there is still a spark of fire burning inside me somewhere,
but it won’t burn outside the invisible bars I have laid around myself.

Maybe one day, I could fuel the fire to burn brighter,
I have got a long way to go,
but I am ready to be the burning fire of a shooting star again.