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It has been so long,
so long since I differentiated
between the noises and signals.
On my path to light,
I’ve shot down all the black stars.
Left them to crumble and decay in the cosmic dusts:
they’re nothing but noises, to my heart.
Time is up,
light is on,
and I am ready to sail,
following the West wind, rushing,
before I am murdered by empty dreams.
I allow my tears falling, in the rains.
And learn to smoke the pains
without getting high in furiousness.
This war isn’t between me and the surrounded dark forces.
Rather, it’s a ‘fight-to-death’ episode of my angel and demon.
Now, I have chosen wings over fire
and decided to paint the sky in white over rainbow colours.
“My son, don’t cry!” God said.
A life that’s written on a white paper
will be lonelier than those under the sparkling nights.
But it’ll be alright,
alright — because I seek the ‘truest’ star,
in spite of million scars on my chest.
“Please, don’t despite all the worldly beauties!” she begged.
The girl that is as lost as I used to be.
Now, I’ve cleansed myself in the snow.
I’ve already found answers in eyes of heavy storms.