And I wore
my mask
for so long
that it quite
burnt onto
my face.

Distinct shades of hues — stood the same
as the pitch-black dusk
takes place into the steel cage,
it dooms her life — a tale of desolation.

A series of the cynic
seeking through — peeking eyes
hushed lips,
here comes despair.

Painted words
by her — another form of scars
wrestled and won
of newness
and fondness
of her secrets
and her sins — are like faces
from a covered haze.

Shredded reputation — stop!
“It will never settle.”
She will strike once again
her vulnerability — remains concealed:
it must preserve her.

“It will never end.”
As she sips from the twists of her
remorse,
though she buries
her facade.

“End her.”
Hailed by her,
while she seeks for
another shade of colors — thus lead her
of another yet
the flicker of the sun.

“It will work out, I believe so.”

I woke up from my stupor
of thoughts
where I bathe from the floods
of my own thinking and logic,
heard his knocking
heart and sang
just the lullaby,
merged with a stroke
of something,

I couldn't avoid
it wears me out
but I can't stand myself
from winding and running
into the land
where I can watch him
and see him
and hold him
and embrace him.

His divine voice
woke me up from my stupor
of thoughts
of my retired song
of my regrets
of my dying requests.

Oh, to discover him
near and down below —
oh, to meet him
and trace his palms
wriggling to get
my face — my eyes,
and feel him in me.

Following me
in another portal of my realm —
were his sole sound
I could tune in
and familiarize;
in the celestial music of his heart,
I can pick up my way back.

The sky holds its truth — as I stomped my feet
and let my cold eyes burn
into the windowpane
I realized,
they have my mysteries.

Shadows were occurring through,
conscious of my becoming —
demons were shrieking,
“Hail! Laud be to the desert god!”
I couldn't keep up anymore.

Dusts were stirring;
spider's web untangling,
they have my secrets.

Yet they stood hushed.

I did it again, did I?
All my sins showing
like a clog stink
I perceive,
the shadows screamed,
“Laud be to the desert god.”

Her face formed from the wetness of my sins,
showing me
of whom I have:
grow into and to be gone.

Hail you, hail you.

The windowpane
drew me back
to its torture,
begone now,
for I have descended from grace.

I am now a fallen angel.
“Begone now, hail you.”
They cried.

The sky holds its truth — all my secrets been dropped long,
but since then, they howled,
resurfaced from the deep hole.

I am frightened.
Begone now,
begone.