If vivid dreams can flee away
in a moment of time,
if the future is unknown
in the dreamer's heart,
and if an untitled song
gets finished —
that must be the calling
of the void's voice.

If a song turns into poetry
if an art turns into a priceless liberty
and if the voice of the void —
finds a dreamer's dream
slipping away,
then mornings
can break away.

If falling means
getting up —
if drowning means
dying —
and if dreaming
means hoping —
then an untitled song
will soon have its name.

As I examine my own reflection,
"Who am really I?"
I think me as a wandering thought;
I have no aim, no direction.

My body feels not me
I'm scared of something or even everything.
I feel not right - not sick - but falsified.
Definitely, my soul is inscrutable.

Great,
I am understood by no one.
I am falsified like I am always misrepresented.
I never felt I belonged to this altering universe.
I never felt home.
I am a homeless hero even in my own dreams

Then, there's you.

You leapt me out of anger which is my comfort.
You introduced me to a world I never expected or believed to be existing.
You are being you while I understand my world is not real without you.
You made me understand something: everything.

So now let me tell you, amor.
I'm done being inscrutable.
I want to be understood with the one I choose to be in more than evergreen... and that's you.

Now, I therefore yearn from thy sweet caresses.
As you always aim for a bounty success,
I have left with an unresolved equation of torture;
My agony could not spare me from that sum of your nature.

You left, you ran, because of thy stubborn will;
You broke, you escaped, because I wasn't the highest bill.
What I am left with are multiple delusions!
Dare to speak that I'm just a trial and error to cause us division.

To must choose to depart is perhaps thy solution
To answer what is correct from all the best choices.
However, if you landed to any particular inequation,
I am pleased to advise to not answer back my spaces.