I'm just trying to live,
like a dandelion,
the weeds fly by the winds with hope,
it blooms though on the rocky ground.
I'm just trying to live,
like a grass,
that stamped by the walkers,
it gets stonger after being stamped.
I'm just trying to live,
like a music,
that could feels the mystery of someone's life,
you can't help but enough to be heard.
I'm just trying to live,
like a poet,
that write the cordial and diverse story about life in this chilling air of October,
it's there though it's untold.
Even I'm far or everywhere,
at least there is me and myself.
How selfish I am?
I'm just trying to lived.
