Out of the pen of a sober in the dim lighted room the ink draws the severe melancholy. Somewhere stuck with a devoted self esteem and self righteousness, listening to the same old songs from good old days and filling the void of dark melody sounding as low as a last prayer.

The atmosphere was the fuel for every iniquity hour. It felt like there was a book in the obscurity and the words on it could save me from the vengeance of the blue sky but I assumed it was just me who was a dunce.

In the spontaneous dysphoria I had lost my lullaby tape somewhere. It’s a big world outside, where I could recover myself from? Maybe you could help, I don’t wanna sound mean but I know you would not. Who can I blame for this? since it’s already a mess in your head. What could save you from your own fallen angel? because there are millions of shadows outside. As it seems, it’s not just about me anymore, you participate equally in this wave that would drown us eventually, but I still think there are some sparks that could burn this house down where our grief resides with all his friends. When everything was on fire you were cold, now look at you. Someone who talks to oneself in front mirror, Something like a battery running with positive and negative impact. Sliding down from the happy hill like my school bag’s strap from my silk jacket. All the words we held in mouth, in the heads some frozen doubts but too concrete to be melted by the sun. I never knew I could get over it in an eyeblink, though I am not acknowledged by the end of this thing but it’s a big world we live in, there’s a lot of ways to get killed but it’d be a shame if a cigarette takes away your life from you, the life is too short to be afraid of the cemetery streets, it’s too short to count the sheen stars, to look through the windows for the barely visible cats, to stay till the last hour of class. All these tiny things that we could to get through short life but we refused to accept the faith. There are a lot of things in this world but I don’t know when the butterflies will breathe in the thunderstorms, I am not aware when the shooting stars will come to life, I am not even sure what will happen on the due dates but the sadism joins the party when I come to the reality where it says “I don’t know if I will ever see you in the way I used to do before”, but there could be infinite forms of realities and maybe in some of these we are what we couldn’t be in this reality and hopefully a cigarette won’t kill you in that dimension of time. It’s a bizarre world outside, we aren’t even aware of our existence now, the sobriety is taking over tonight. Something wins every day and loses other day and I don’t know why I chose to be nothing out of this game of “things”. If the solitude accompanies everywhere then I am not alone but lost for sure.