i’m tired of all the thoughts of being insufficient.
it’s like, if there’s any villains that would kidnap me,
i wouldn’t mind. not even a bit.
take me away because i don’t even feel like being.
i invite disappointment like an old friend.
letting it enter the room i don’t know it still weary,
shattering off all the ornaments like there’s no tomorrow.
if i could talk to it, i knew for sure it would laugh at me.
having peace is always been an unfinished agenda.
where can i have it? thought it lied within the fold of your arms.
i know it’s a wrong thing to make a shelter in a place i don’t belong.
and i keep repeating the same runaway, just because.
your silence indeed the loudest words you always try to say.
and so, do you know that it slightly similar to non-senses?
of all the undelivered messages, we killed ourselves by fear.
only then we can feel content again, even though it just an illusion.
