If I wrote my will
I'd leave everything I have
to a magpie,
they have a beautiful intelligence
something rarely seen
in any kind of species.

Of course this little bird
doesn't know
this old moss for much,
I am green,
clashing against
our wooden encagements.

A silent observer
to their fluttery exuberance
where it is impossible to tell
the crescendo of wind
from the absence
of feeling.

overwhelmed by longing
unable to fly
blurred beyond recognition
no longer watching

love you not
love me not
it is here
the will is written
please take it all.

After midnight, she starts thinking
She is wondering whether she is really fulfilling hers mission on earth or not!
What is the core of existing!
-Love,  hate,  then leaving-
she is obsessed by different feellings !
- fear,  love,  and hate -
She can't stop thinking about everything
-She is weirdos , -
Every idea takes a place on her own mind
After midnight , that idea starts poisoning her thoughts slowly
- like the moon  affecting us-
she stresses herself  asking about the real meaning of life.
As  for her , life becomes meaningless.

My everything was nothing to you
But your nothing was everything to me

You can take something,
but can you take nothing?
You can take their life,
but can you take their soul?
You hit alright,
but can you hit no more?
You can start,
but can you stop?
You can stop.
You can stop.

1800, 1200, 500,
nothing.

When will I look myself in the mirror
and say, "you are beautiful"

When will I see me
and not cringe in disgust.

When will I feel good
in my own skin?

When will this end?