Now all of my poetries revolve around me
I spit my blood for the ink
I paint it with tears
to create some cliché masterpiece

There are no one to write about
there are no love to embrace
the birds on the sky
the grass that dries
weather slipped in between my eyes

Lonely when I'm around friends
but I find peace on my own
chasing and catching the dream
of another worldly desire

I was trying so hard
that I forgot how to breathe

Had I dealed my card
I must have still stuck on waiting
for another train
another dream

another one to write about