Imploding
Believe it or not
Sometimes people get so suck
They crave for interest
Then turn back like beggar with filled hands
Their words are smart
Yet their measures are nothing
If I am not this committing myself
If I am not that trapped, be sick of any run-out
Of course, there will be no me here
Bowing my head, even my bones
To serve, to forbear,
For you to fly high
And leaving me with only nothing
You can call this was my regret, my self-ego, my wreak, my conceit, or anything even worse.
that if this was not come out, the blow could be so high
though it had already
that if this was not come out, the blow could be so high
though it had already
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