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I held my pen,
ready to start writing something new—
something that reflects my life.
I think, and think, and think,
but nothing comes to mind.

Whenever I close my eyes,
her sweet memories cloud my thoughts
like mountains in the middle of June.

I always try to bounce back,
but no matter how high you jump,
it's inevitable that you'll fall.

Now, I’ve lost my touch;
I’ve lost the sparkle in my eyes.
She didn't just leave my life—
she took my pride.

Is that me now?
A soul who roams
in fields of pitch-black solitude.

Her delusion was
that I had moved on,
and mine was
that she would find her way back home.
Every step I take, the destination drifts further,
Like I never flinched from my starting line.
Am I truly moving—or just imagining motion?
This constant struggle of duality isn’t the enemy of my path—
It is my path. It is I.
Confident in nothing.
The way of solitude gives me euphoria.

My path has many distractions.
They haunt me, they’re tempting me to stay or return.
It’s getting hard to stay on the road.
My will is my lantern, which flickers with my every step.

I’m scared.
I look at the bushes on the side of the road with fear.
My movement gets slow.
I’m shivering.
I know there is a predator, and I’m its prey—
Still, I ignore it, like a sacrificial lamb.

This road may end with me—
Or my grief may end me before it.
The heat of the summer was creeping up my head,
making it clear for others to see my desire,
My faith, my mysteries—
letting my real self show to the world.
The more I open, the more they hate.
The world is built on lies,
and it doesn't welcome someone
With a foundation of truth.

The clouds of the season of showers make me sad,
make me reflect on my decision to live.
When the tiny drops of rain touch my face
With the breeze, it soothes me—
until the dark mood of the weather
stirs up my seasonal trauma.

The autumn winds, when leaves fall,
carry every step with the crackle of the dry,
each gust making the dead leaves swirl—
as if her presence follows me,
With every footstep echoed
by the brittle sound of fading things.
It is the season when most hearts break,
And more get swaddled in a fragile coating of care.

Winter—the season I cherish the most.
It bears neither the scorch of summer
nor the gloom of the verdant rains,
neither the shedding of autumn
nor the heartbreak it trails.
It doesn't mend,
Nor does it shatter—
It simply stalls time.
A waiting room
for the arrival of someone
whose presence holds together
The fragile threads of my sanity.

I do not hate winter.
My soul feels more at ease in its stillness
than in any other time of year.
Alas, I should have been born
In the outskirts of snowy, silent lands,
Living in a cabin in the woods.
The city has wearied me—
I've lost my touch,
My freedom—
made to think and feel
as if someone above
is pulling all my strings.
You forget that I cherish the past.
They say to move on, but it’s too hard.
I smile whenever I recall,
Yet you fade like a story lost in time.

When I see the stars so bright,
Shining in the peaceful night,
I’d rather see their gentle light,
Reflected in your loving eyes.

You’re gone but left me with this scar;
Wounds may heal, but the pain lingers far away.
I miss those days, so pure, so bright.
Now life feels like an endless night.

I’m a traveler seeking paradise,
Lost in the past, trapped in time.
Our story is gone, but love still remains,
A tale I’ll carry to my grave.
A Girl to Cherish

She maintains a steady gaze,
With desire, or makes my heart pursue her as a chase.

She has a smile that melts my heart
And pierces through the uncertainty in my head.

She is kind and modest, embracing everyone,

But she maintains a cold distance.
She is steady and keeps her space,
She doesn’t want to hurt anyone and wishes the same.

But her fate doesn’t let her desires come true.

That’s the secret behind her steady gaze.

— The End —