I’m from that delicious solitude.
It looks crowded in the happiest times,
and empty when sadness crawls.
Born to live the double lives of my sphere,
Nobody knows the place I reside
I’m from the impious heaven and nowhere but here
From falling off the edge of my bed
With fiction and delusion eating my skin.
Pray, love, speak to the heavens,
And have God in Buddhism.
I am from the wet clothes
Of no drips onto the floor.
I am tired.
I died every day and they don’t know.
Cops are not trained well enough,
My life’s falling hard, and out of my skull.
I’m only sixteen and got myself so curious
I am from the dark alley, so mysterious,
From newspaper stuck on walls, and bottles spilled over
My life is at stake, I see no light
It was a glorious life, and so I felt all right.
Now I have no clue,
and I’m singing my blues.
The winter’s footsteps has left me breathless
But while I was breathless, I breathed once more
Without a hesitant of breath.
I am from the happiest family of all.
From smiles, tears, laughters, and ugly weeps.
The dark alley suddenly becomes a bright place.