I fed my soul,
with happiness;
Like watering a furniture,
to bloom!

Once that furniture was green,
Only spreading shades,
Once my soul was pure,
Only spreading smiles,

The wood was killed by others,
With the axe of exploitation,
My soul was killed by me,
with the poison of self hate,

Now the things has changed,
The wood no longer is green,
The soul no longer is bright,
Can't spread the shades and smiles.

I'm hoping to get my old soul back,
But I knew I was watering a furniture,
Hoping to get it bloomed.
Yes, my soul is dead.

~@inkless_diary
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