Feels like I am the only autumnal leaf watching the flowers blossom from afar.
I am the blue glancing at the colorful world with despair.
I am shedding blood from my eyes, and the world deems my tears as a piece of art.
Whilst the room is full of light, I am still in the dark.
I’ve written myself as the darkest story, which yearns for a glimpse of sparkling light.
A bleak picture of the golden hour, I long for a bright daylight.
The days I should be spending lying beneath the warm sunlight, I am living with the fear of life.
A city once was filled with sweet melodies, now the only sound which strikes it is the sound of explosion.
Now the rain doesn’t drizzle anymore, it only hails fire upon humanity.
Little flowers in my garden have been crushed, which should be twirling carefree.
When I drew myself on a white canvas, they dripped red stains all over me.
Feels like I am falling apart, but I still have days to breathe.
