Monday, 9 July 2012
Something's wrong with me and I don't know what
Passion's gone; all that's left are empty papers,
While back then I had the dreams I used to write,
Right now only dusts left on the tables.
Used to wake up excited about the day,
And went to sleep smiling better
Now I wake up full of dismay
And wished that I could sleep forever
Looking at kids having fun carefreely
Running and laughing and playing
How jealous am I to dislike such liberty?
Damn, I hate that feeling.
More sorrow growing with no fine reason,
It's painful. It's dangerous. It's bad.
Wish it's so easy to tell another person,
"Hey. I'm sad."
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