when I write
my feet soaked
it feels like
I'm going down
again into a flooding surface
of those aired headlines!
enough to construct my thoughts
in to an evident words,
trying hard not to get frowned
with how am I supposed to rhyme
telling my self ...why I let my self listen
to the whispers and wails wanders in-depth
even though I just want my flow be clear and shallow!
when I am reading
it pours many horizons I used to love and dwell
those poetry whereby hunger and thirst were filled
everytime I am indeed here in this mysterious world,
incomparable to one another.
just like the most beautiful view,
I can not fled because even whenever
I failed to visit for a long period of time
I just can't reside away from here fellow
I really just don't know when and how
but i am quite sure I have a will to sow
my reads and my writes not to get lost.
relief and lightness wanting to impose
free my heart and mind about my sorrow
fulfill my being in times of a road narrow
why is that good news
needs to be heard first
Before stating...what is bad news?
I think simply because of...
W r i s t
