i had a friend who died at a very young age.

he never found love.

never had a career.

never had a chance to discover the world.

when he died, i felt an unfairness in life.

why is everyone's life not equal the share of fun?

what is life?

is life luck?

do we stand a chance to fight fate?

maybe it's my fate
to live this life.

or

maybe it's my mistakes
that leaded me to this life.

if you could find someone who could
cope up with your grumpiness and
put up with your bitchin of almost
everything,

keep them,

they love you.

"all you need is love."

or

living a life at peace without it?

some are fated to have
only one opportunity
to find true-love
in a life time.

and some are fortunate enough
to have a second, if they
ever miss the first one.

this question strikes every one;

will you die in the state of still expecting?

knowing that you've been a fool,
waiting and expecting all this time,
and that it is already at the end,
and you're still nothing,
where it doesn't matter anymore.

or,

accept the defeat now,
that you'll never be whole again,
and seek for something else instead.

the difference of a meaningful life and a happy life;

you can never have both.

the choice of both leads to only misery.

maybe misery is the answer.

or maybe i've chosen.

i'm waiting for a change,
and the waiting has changed me.

do take me away,
if this is it.

the world is in darkness,
light only comes in beeps.

the world is in storm,
i long for the sun.

can you, can she?

can we?

is she, will she?

i've tried, but still.

you can die just 'believing',

or die just 'knowing.

she knows, i know.

is 'tomorrow'

a reason to wake up?

is 'tomorrow'

a good reason to begin?

or simply 'tomorrow'

is just a tomorrow.

tomorrow.

i shall be reborn today,
like how i've always have.

i shall believe again,
like how i've always had.

like today of any other day,
where i believe and be reborn again,

today.

i'll paint you a song,
draw you a letter,

sing you a poem,
by your window,

picture you a lover,
dream of a life.

i had her with this song once.

funny now that i am giving it,

to her again,

as a friend;to be send.

i remember how painful-difficult it was,

for how i know now, how beautiful it was.

that it can be,

if you try to make it be,

and just be.

i know that it was;

a cut that it must be,

an end to it all,

and forever it remains;

to be heal.

maybe it is i, who are killing me,

and not it.

sometimes i go back,

and i think:

was i;he, or he;i?

or was she even she,

or just simply,

she?

i'm so tired of waiting,

but waiting,

is the only thing,

i could ever do.

the fear of death;

words that are not spoken from my mouth,

can i get back?

to undo my wrong; is wrong.

living to it; is right.

i right to live.

i feel so wrong.

inspired by simplicity,

this;

is the simplest thing in my life.

the old question;

do we choose the path?
or the path choose us?

it is my obsession.

then it became a habit.

now,

it is an addiction.


;the old question remains.

the color changes faster than you could imagine.

love is red.

amnesia would be the greatest thing now.

just one mistake and this can be forever.

for ever.

the next thing you know, you're 70.

and you are still here.

life can just be.

just be.

this is a new beginning;

like every other beginnings; of every other years,

this is the new.