For Sanctified Boredom

Empty room resonate but doesn't listen, slowly trapped, left me soundless. And I'm scared, covers my numb with clothes, struggles to find solace. But this is the story of not already a broken dream. I don't belong right here alone in my solitude, cause I'm not making any sense. I'm tired living in this empty chapter, I don't stand for the given up one.

Life as a never-ending lesson is not over, I just found the flag. As my solitude cost me a disease, I'll try to breathe some empathy onto it. Maybe it will turn me broken or maybe it will turn me better, but surely one thing, it won't turn me bitter.

I lost my ease. I think I'm a radiant, and I mean it. I'm a movement on my shoulder, I'm a gaze behind an one-way mirror. I'm a presence among the absence, and believe me, I'm facing forward. and I mean it.

If I have one fear, it's to rest on regret with nothing to left, haunted by the hope that life ain't useless for the dreamer stay raw. And when the grounds end, will I stop or will I keep dreaming? I guess I'm good at believing, and keep asking myself, under who's rule am I living?