the blue bird flew over the fields of sorrow

you create a world of your own
where the truth, will never be known
--

oneself - bluebird

too many come to mind
too many of them r blue.
too many of them bring me
to you
and make me blue
..
cuz ive created
a world of my own
and i dont really
and dont really
at all
know what the truth is.
i know close to it
i dont know
where do i stand?

i stay on
spring air
float and
little by little
i die
inside.

i would put on gloves
i would never leave my bed
i would never open my eyes
i would never..
my head hurts
once again
i dont know
once again
once again
i find myself
in the same place
at the same time
its all the same..
cant i grow?
the fck~!
at least,
im the same
in my own head.
cuz theres nothing new
...

and that
should be it.
au revoir.