Is my breeze anyway near? I’m waiting.
I’m being basked in the uneasiness; the morning is no blessing.
Inside my room, in my world where gloominess glows;
I sit listening to the tick of my clock.
I’m not sure what it hints me moving around a dial.
Is it what the bygone life or the nearing death?
Silence has almost eaten my voice,
My lips have been knitted.
My head awaits an explosion;
Is the freedom near?
I’d surprise if I deny it once again.
I wish I see no more dissimilarity,
let me lost inside the similarity;
where my identity ends.
I could feel my breeze nearing,
Hope this time I would prove no wrong.
.
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