The hurling and messy ink of pen from my sheet.
Can be named as abstract but are not words.
My mismatched shoes stamped as I refuse to take a step.
I finish the last blank page yet the season is unchanging.
My fainted heart got kindled by a bright snow that was whiter than milk.
I picked up the same empty diary as I twirl and turned around.
The mirror caught a full length of my agony.
The season is still the same, glittery but cold.
I fold that space to remind me when I look back.
I used to love the name of whose nickname choose to age with me.
My earphones are plugged in my ears but the song is paused.
The alpha of my lyrics ended before the season tilted, It was bare and leafy.
Ripping the same folded blank page, i loved your dark eyes.
The hug you engraved from my back was warm.
Yearning for it was not a bad habbit, isn't it?
A collection of you filled my heart and mind
But the same empty diaries became a stagnant season.