I run away from myself.
I don’t know where.
Maybe where no one can find me,
never.
Maybe where I can be myself
as such.
Where it doesn’t matter whether I’m genius
or nothing much.

I run away from myself.
And I don’t hide.
Even though no one will think of me,
if I’m not specified.
Even though no one will regret
or sadden.
I’m like a ship: it’s sailed
and totally forgotten.

I run away from myself.
Don’t follow me. No need to!
I really doubt that my future
truly suits you.
Stay here as if you didn’t know me
at all.
I’m like a ticket: it’s simply to lose me
in whole.