Writing poetry has changed me a lot since i became a subject of the material, and my words are more fixed and flawed than myself.
They flow from line to rhyme, stabbing me into the heart a hundred pages of thoughts is spinning so fast that i can barely catch any of it if it really means a lot to me.
It is as to flood me into downpour with it from the Sun yet the typical look reflected on a mirror reminds me of who i really was and nothing can be re-written from a history.
No roses can blossom without a rain, they said, like they babbles up themselves to say in front of enemies that every petals are new-born warriors and the rest ofΒ Β the past was the biggest blur as if they were dropped directly into a wrong time, at a wrong place, like it's made by fairy tales.