I wrote about a stranger,
And that’s how we met.
Exchanging thoughts for a couple of months.
I am astonished of his beliefs.
“Maybe he is a good stranger”, I said.
And started to fabricate that he wasn’t broken.
When he was drunk, he told me things,
About love and him being shattered.
I should’ve ran away from the beginning.
But I always fool myself from an idea.
Fixing him won’t save him anyway.
In the end, we became strangers.
So , I wrote about a stranger,
and that’s how we end.