when I write my feet soaked it feels like I'm going down again into a flooding surface of those aired headlines! enough to construct my thoughts in to an evident words, trying hard not to get frowned with how am I supposed to rhyme telling my self ...why I let my self listen to the whispers and wails wanders in-depth even though I just want my flow be clear and shallow!
when I am reading it pours many horizons I used to love and dwell those poetry whereby hunger and thirst were filled everytime I am indeed here in this mysterious world, incomparable to one another. just like the most beautiful view, I can not fled because even whenever I failed to visit for a long period of time I just can't reside away from here fellow
I really just don't know when and how but i am quite sure I have a will to sow my reads and my writes not to get lost. relief and lightness wanting to impose free my heart and mind about my sorrow fulfill my being in times of a road narrow
why is that good news needs to be heard first Before stating...what is bad news? I think simply because of... W r i s t