Ambushed by thorns of life, my resistance became indefinitely strong. Leaving from one side to the other in a close room of vacuum. Moving up and down, dwelling in the past not moving forward as hopeless as I am. Might not be able to bloom in the early eye of morning sun, I turned into a black rose, waiting to be picked up. Refusing to change the colour, I took another path without restriction. Leading to another endless road of fire. Lightless and lifeless as always, faintly moving towards the door of hope. Opening up, leaving only a torn piece of a petal. Lying down there - black and sorrowful. A heart which is filled with dirt is not the mood of life, it is just another junk within the blackhole absorbing every single thing into just one hole, letting nothing go, as evil as it seems, no one know what lies within. There is blood bath within a hole of pikes, letting no fish alive within the pool. Hopefully, it is another story of misery with no intention. Suffocating from the facts of life, I manage to find my supply of air.
1.20pm 20 September 2008
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