The flare of my sun is dying,
Not feeling good enough
Finally, the beauty is falling.
They say it's just for some moment,
it will pass but it's been decades
My worn-out shoes are tired of tracing the unknown facade,
Like my limbs are my own shackles
Fascinated by raindrops,
paper boat drowning in the ocean
Maybe more than dream
I have made friends with mirage it seems.