A girl created her own deep hope
When she is broken,
She put her feelings into poems
And she listened to every single silent of her soul
And jumped into a buried smile
And gathered all the sparkling frustration
And disappeared in a covered damage;
She is a master of a nicest holocaust

Until she discovered her own contentment
And destroyed the unfortunate events
of herself
And cherised a timeless adventure
And rewarded an aimlessly silhouette
And pondered an untouchable bliss;
She is a master of a wildest serendipity.

Your permanent melody
isn't the first one I've heard
But smiling,
was the only reaction I did
And I felt strange
of being a tone in your melody

I come down to the balcony lately
catching the sun with its orange
that showers the ground perfectly
As you know,
I'll always love how it rises up
and even goes down shiverly
together with your harmony

I don't sound like any other tone
And none of them are grim
I mean.. yeah
They are made for your ears
Mine, it doesn't sound rhythmic
but none of them are gimmick
You may wanna hear them in the attic.

Oh I'm glad I am me.

Let's have another talk with this girl
about season
that could be a lesson
for her to not rely on
other people;
Because people are seasonal
One day they are summer
Bringing all the laughter
as the sea getting warmer
The next day they are autumn
Carrying the golden leaves as the item
falling down in the middle of poem
A later time they are winter
Blowing the winds together
getting more and more colder
colder, colder, than ever
Little by little they are spring
Together bloom as the sun rising
and the mother nature saying

Welcome, we are all redefining.