I don't trust two.
They are my eternal foe.
Time and sickness
The first changed my heart
The second is the one behind my weakness.
Time is my arch enemy
Its sickness is the worst melody.

Poetry derives
from your heart
And targets
My heart,
  So poetry
  Is my heart.
He who has no heart
Can never understand my poems.

A nation that
Doesn't question
Or criticize its past
Will never have
A future.
A nation that
Buries its present
In its past
Is a dead nation.

Born with flesh and blood, but heart sold separately. Bird way up high, falling from the sky. The raining aftermath is the common denominator. When it shockwaves from ground zero, it leaves an atomic shadow—fatal impressions where a living, breathing thing once stood...

I still remember
The day I fell in love
With you.
I lost my way home.