When pain course through my pen
I draft it down to scripts on papers,
And if you're one of my readers,
You'd clearly see my blight
Feel the hurt and sorrow as I write
When everything's not fine
Everyone is blind
You'll hear them speak of their despair
But none will lend you an ear
Or maybe two, it can also be few
But maybe it is you
Afraid of others' judgment
So you just kept quiet and stayed silent
In my case,
I just don't want to lose face.
It's my pride,
And these distresses, I must hide.
You don't look nice when you are blue.
You got droopy...