In a decades,
beautiful thoughts scattered in
my mind
Dark shadows from the past
hits me so hard
How embarrassed I was
to what I did
I'm ashamed to the words
I write
In the last poem I made.

Shakespeare says,
"What past is prologue."
But how should I start?
Knowing the past,
gives me sadness and grief
As I try to write,
I can't play any single word
And will stagger many times.

The reason,
I give up to write
I'm overwhelmed by
a melancolic ache
I know, you know,
Emotional pain is hard
to dwell
You couldn't find any strenght
to sail back again.

When I look at to the milkyway
Myself console me,
and told me that it's time to go
back and reset everything
No matter how much it cost,
Let the beautiful thoughts
be whole again.