Will There Be Enough Water?

The lights are so dim, it even hurts my eyes.
The air seems to be cooler, I couldn't breath.
The music was wasting their lyrics.
There was no hope in it.
I just stuck with the words that goes on to this notebook.
The Awfully words from my heart or my brains, well, you could never tell.
Because lately, I couldn't tell where's my heart or my brains anymore.

It's twisted little thing
It's crazy little thing

They are pushing me away from all the stories behind the canvas.
I couldn't hear it. But I could saw it. Through all this waterly glasses that they kept building for me.

It's weird little thing.
It's deathly little thing.

FOREST

You run, the castle was gone.
You run, the pain will come.
The wind is cold.
It whirls around until you died.

Your mind is blank, you get hungry.
Your toes are numb. You know this time, you get really fucked up.

The Whisperer comes again with the bow on your face.
They told you to closed your eyes.
Listens to the earth singing to you.
Sings to death.
Sings to live.
The rain is pouring, and the lighting comes deadly.
Your hands comes into your ownskin.
It's frooze you to death to know that they are filthy with guilt.
You couldn't escape the fate.
And faith is come and go.
Awake is something you cannot do.

You screams till your lungs gave out.
But there's no voice.
It's suddenly gone.
Everything was gone.
It's just you and your mind.
Your crazy little, mind.

Dreamer, you little munchkin.

It's not about him or her.

And definitely it's not about me and you

Or us. No, it's not.

It's just me and my thought.

Me and my dream.

Me and my own world.

When the sky is blue, the rain is pouring down like an old story in the fairy world.

The dream that I'll always wanted but you don't.

The fairy tales you always killed it before it grows nowhere in your wooden neck.

You'll always says life isn't a fairytales.

But you told me to live like that, to feels like that.

Is it fair to change the things that you already changed?

Again. It's just me and my stupid thought. My stupid human feelings.

I just wrote everything the time has changed you, and the time has changed me.

And it feels numb.

Feels numb to be tired or bored.

Waiting for the realistic world that you offered to me.

The thing is, well. Maybe, it is about you and me.