The paper told me once
My streak was like a dust
It just wrote how I screamed
About all of those stupid dreams
The black ink used its reality to slap me down
About how stupid I was to be happy for being bound
About how I lost my mind
Because something that couldn't be changed again
But ... thank God
They didn't know the reason
What was exactly made my mind burn
So I could keep it for myself
And kept the world scorn with all of those wrong--but didn't look that tragic--opinion
2 September 2018
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
Untai Aksara Tentang Kita
PoetryKamu, aku, dan dunia ini, kita datang lalu pergi, iringi masa bersama sunyi, dalam juita yang pegari dan tak lagi. Akankah sang asa abadi, dapat jadi lebih dari, sekadar khayali?
