西瓜日記

Sometimes I ponder…

To whom can I freely talk?

To where can I cozily walk?

To what can I pleasurably do?

No one could help you,

Besides leave alone the ego of you.

I do the exercise of the struggle for hatred or pardon?

I play the swing of the reality and ideal.

Like a detective, investigating from the fur of my mood carpet.

I distinguish from the endurance or acceptance for each disagreeable matter.

It pains me.

It hurts me

But It has made what I am for