I got this feeling where my soul is so weary that it's completely shattered.
It's strange and surreal how I don't get it.
I tried pouring it into the pages, but even the words failed to describe them.
The ink, it spilled all over my heart to fix it,
But even that ink couldn't soothe the sorrow within me.

Is it the world, or is it me, trying to ruin my soul?
I wonder how it feels to be truly understood.
Because I was always the one to understand everything, and it is a cruel curse to perceive things so perfectly.

I just failed so miserably while letting myself drown in the air, feeling suffocated yet breathing.
The wound in my heart was never healed.
It only deepened with each fleeting moment.
It bled so much that it turned the pages red.

I just yearn for someone to see the true me, not the mirror within that echoes the grief of mine.
But in the process of healing my wound, I lost everything my heart always longed for.

My soul, it is trapped in the agony of existing in this world.
It burned in the blaze of illusion and left the ashes behind,
And the wind grew so heavy that even the ashes faded away eventually.