It’s not that I am okay
It’s that I have lost my way
Through many ways and reasons
With unexpected seasons
Through the streets of broken hearts
As enough my soul departs
Ever I felt a simple season of strange
I took myself into a thorny range
The collision of “white shirts” through competition
With self-interest, nothing to compete
Only sorrows, woes, and foes
It’s just that I am incomplete
Addicted to one’s weak zones
In the hearts “a debunk thief of artificial tunes”;
Just buzzling over one’s simplicity
When it’s over I weep alone
And I encourage myself by using phone!
