As sun and moon changing,
unnecessary beats of strumming emotion;
feels like the ancient days.
as the intertwined rush wind distancing,
incessant melody starting to rise,
singing an anthem we never produce,
drawing a concept we never seek,
writing lyrics we never scream.
And so then, for the ancient me ,
which anthem I proudly wore?
which concept I proudly draw,
when sophistical words become the thing I dived beneath the fictitious dreams?
As we combined the chemical reaction between the ancient and present me,
it explodes and blind my visions black.
As I was blamed for being a mindless idiot,
I might just want to ask,
if the ancient me is the same in your view?
And then, the mindless me laugh,
soft and slow, and cold.
And you wonder what's the different beneath this face of peace you so underestimate.
But stop wondering,
because the present me won't recognize now,
those innocent ancient flower which you find solace in.
And stop looking,
for an explanation to this strangest science you ever encounter.
For I am just another copy of copy of another ancient human you so miscalculated,
because our howling might be too quiet to people like you and them.
-a.
cynical? Sardonic? Sarcastic?
Which concept-
I accidentally drew?
YOU ARE READING
F R A G I L E
PuisiFragile ['fradʒʌɪl] •(of a person) not strong or sturdy; delicate and vulnerable. -Prose, Poetry, Poem & Short Story. _______________________________ "Ini lirik jiwa nyanyi Tulisan aku suka sembunyi Kerana mereka tak faham apa yang mereka nyan...
