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I really don't know what happened. One day, I just stopped reaching for the stars or watching the comet burns in the night skies. I no longer slide over the rainbow and hitch the clouds for some ride. When my lips wanted to convey, it just wanted to zip. My tongue knots when I try to speak. Everything seems blurry. My foundation is to crash while my epilogues is a dead end. Ink spilled over the parchment and my wrist was tied up. Yet I'm desperately trying to water my passion with some gasoline. A faint light to my dim litted hallways. To make me breath once more. 𝑃𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒.
