Nothing new pulls the heart.
Love written for a dusted piece of garden,
where melody of rain falls apart.
Where people make reels,
you write how bitter pain feels.
When they go to bar,
your mind drifts to stars so far.
They influence the society,
yet you choose to stay under the blanket of imagery and poetry.
You are not lost,
found within words where magic pulls the most.
A moon child who talks to darkness,
listens to the words of wind,
the connection isn’t easy to find.
Divided by measure, yet united by pain we treasure.
Hallway of memories,
unfinished paintings and whispering stories.
We live ? it’s a lie.
Sunflowers without sunlight,
long time died.
They may have thousands of people follow,
but you stay alone within words that never stop to grow.
The pain burns your throat,
standing on desert takes away a lot.
Someone said the ending depends on intention,
let’s wait together for Afterlife Station.