The same flash splashing around in this collapsing night, where the sky holds an aqueduct of tears and is ready to spill. The hum of heavy clouds, do you capture it? The dazzling of unspoken sadness that filled up downtown for years.
Cozy morn’, summery day, fondness of afternoon, and the bustle of city lights in a young night… Do you know them all along? ‘I felt the life, and live, and now I can’t leave,’ from you to the silence of midnight space.
I know you are trying to throw your heart out by listening to this invisible love song of late-night air. Those dead objects of yours, how was it? Do they even move as you count the number to three? They only stay still, waiting for you to take a new step and see them through another perspective of lens that would scream its lungs out if only it could spell the words.
The sudden ring of your phone lights the midnight up, and your hostile sigh comes after. O, you loner!
02:01 A.M.
‘Where are you?’
Hear me,
you were a tiny fool bud of the flower, who slowly grow in a land of soil you never know before you bloom. Unconsciously, slightly, I know your little heart hope that would be something to stay after you stray.
02:03 A.M.
‘Come home.’
But you were just a fool who is sometimes scared by the future and thinks about surrender when the place you once thought about living, killing you faster than ages and an unknown fate. So, let’s just run away. I say, let them shout, ‘Go away!’
Poor child of God, I hear your worshiped laugh to your pain, or you just begging for a light to show you a way back to… nowhere in vain?
Fun, for you, to watch the world through the ice-like eyes. The blurry pictures by over-poured light, strange colors bending with each other in the middle of this dark night. Those regressions of high buildings at this hour and empty passage with one or two cars passing, was it you, perhaps?
You forever lost in words, trapped by the stillness, and letting people who move around you meet their end. This gloomy yet peaceful phenomenon was only a file named “2 A.M.”, but now, it’s all tell about you.
Ah, the flash again.
What is it, now, young broken boy?
