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Papa's silence, mama's hysteria,
The six year old me doesn't understand the reason,
The inner left chest,
Only the heart runs weak guess,
Tears that weren't shed.
Certainly we used to believe that the light of hope will shine tomorrow,
In order to be recognized,
In order to be praised.
Should I become someone that wasn't me ?
I thought about it the whole time,
No one is bad, but
I wonder why can't it stay undecorated like it was ?
I wonder why can't it be faced as usual ?
I wonder why can't go well with the way I was ?
Loving, being loved, not being loved,
Loving more people to the end,
All are repeated connections.
Soon a change will come inside the repetition,
A never-ending spiralstaircase, climb, climb
As for one day,
The day to understand will come
But until then only including the whole sorrow
You'll feel the florid loneliness to the utmost.
Blues on the run
Father, mother, sister me. Peace