She doesn't sleep
Let alone eat
She's starved
She's living hour by hour with a cup of coffee in her hand
Tired and deprived of 'liesure time'
You won't hear from her
She's not dead
But it's practically the same

Why is she doing this?
You know the girl that people made fun of?
You know the girl who's dad broke her heart before any boy could?
You know that girl .
She wants to prove everyone wrong
She wants more
Never satisfied
She wants it all
She wants to be happy.
So she does it for her self

She studies all night long
She studies until 6 a.m before the exam ,
Grabs the biggest cup of coffee
Then goes to the one place she hates
All because she wants to be happy.


At the end of the day,
We hurt ourselves,
because we want to be happy .

21 years and 9 months;
that's how long it took
for me to realize
that every morning
we all have 2 choices:

Open our eyes slowly
or open them quickly,

and it was always about attitude.

The first
is a drug.

Sheets pull us in
as if they were
an injection,
an infection,
holding us captive
in a warmth
that can only be temporary.

The second
is freedom.

A quick flash of light
sings our eyes awake,
like a shout,
like a shake,
letting go of the night
in a shotgun moment
as the first breath of air.

Of the two,
I wish to be the latter.

The lullaby of cicadas
has put the village
to sleep
at this moment
strips of waxen haze
swaying
every household
slowly.

The sky is
a calendar
written with the clouds
the sun smiling
day after day
the sea is
a calendar
written with isles
waves and vessels
the propellers rotating
day after day
a calendar on the table
rusty shovel
and hammer singing
paint brush dancing
day after day.

Standing keen deep in the river
of time
feeling the water
flowing slowly
slowly through
my fingers
watching the stars in the sky
listening to the deafening
croaks of frogs
breathing in
the dense wet
water vapor
smelling the grasses
on the shore
the distant wheat
watching the fish
chasing each other
at my feet
listening to the nightingale
singing on a high branch
this is just so
relaxing.

In my childhood
the other side of the ocean
entrusted with wishes
wishes wandering in the sea
growing up
the other side of the ocean
entrusted with an ideal
running on the surface
then flying
soaring.

What is lucky
is it
a passerby who fell down
and found a gold coin
is it
travellers who discovered
ancient secrets
when they took shelter in
a cave
is it the impartial
arrow of cupid
a soldier who was
saved in midst of
gunfire
is it
catching the last train
is it
a ragged beggar
who acquired a 5-dollar meal
is it
a ray of breeze that
deviates the bullet from
its trajectory
lucky is
the fullness of the spirit
the attendant of happiness
the inception of laughter
the heir to
the lucky stone.

The fog spreading
the sunlight trapped
in the cage of the mountains
the village respiting
trees sleeping
soil meandering
the road
screaming.

The taste of happiness
still remains
in the streetcorner
the colored days
turning into a good song
time and distance
can never break
the gate valve
of friendship.

Tonight
there's a
jasper in the sky
the dews rinsing
the dust
the breeze conveying
the sounds of nature
the weary footsteps of birds
like the clock on the wall
and busyness reverted
to tranquility
and tonight
there's a jasper
in the sky.