Mystery huh ?
So that's what they called something that can't be explain.
Then, I would go for that too. For I, myself. Can't be explain.
What you see in me were just merely 1/4 of myself.
I'm not saying that I have many personalities or that so called "fake" person.
I'm saying that myself is a mystery. Every detail of it. You don't even know what I've felt, suffered, triggered. Because you only know me based on seeing the things that you see me doing. Not based on my experience.
You don't even know how badly it hurts. Or happy I was.
It just too much.
The pain.
The Joy.
Too much pain made you vulnerable.
Too much joy made you vulnerable too.
Both made you vulnerable and you don't even realise every single person were trying to take advantage of you.
It just so sad.
Living myself as a mystery.
As no one will understand the truth.
YOU ARE READING
Interlude
PoetryInterlude bermaksud jurang ataupun "gap" ianya juga bermaksud "pause". Sama seperti kehidupan kita, dimana ketika kita bergembira pasti ada jurang di mana kita akan tersungkur. Ketika itu, kita mempunyai pilihan untuk teruskan "pause" kan kehidupan...
