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August 28 活不下去了。。。Don't know what to do, don't know what to say, this feeling is so strange, seems to devour all my existence. I just cannot carry on being like this, shit... please give me a break
Before The Mirror
Who am I to define, a fake poet or a vulgar sign? Mentally sick, though yet commit heinous crime Emptiness stealthily creeps, into the truthful glass, Where a figure twisted, does normally shine
I’m the tomb of my self-love, Narcissus’s pool Sucked in every vigor, and left behind a desolate mind Unrequited passion and love I do give away, Unexpected coldness to receive, of such kind
Reality is the murderer of great love When shallow ones linger, in the name of lust, or trust, Worldly chaos pushes me on, while heavenly thoughts Switch me off, with my rhymes, decaying into dust
Will he foresee in me sunken eyes and lonely nights? Or just a dead image, within a grown, sophisticated child.
---lulu, someday before
August 21 A night like thisLate at night, have not a bit desire to bed, just to note down a night like this:
When the fresh feet of night trespass, Upon the bounty of a dying sun, I, take on the cloak of darkness, To seek the sweet music of your voice;
The watery beams of moonshine, Cast upon the withered face of the world, Who after a day’s sweat and toil, Now rests serenely upon a maid’s window;
In such a night, with lively steps I stride to your door, knock and knock, Knock and knock, a heart so unsatisfied, To hear no music, from my tenth Muse;
Has she lost counsel of the nightingale? Or away with the fallen angel she fled? Or just she and I, I and you, are only images Blocked in the divine drawer of imagination;
Thus with a fragile heart I bemoan, shedding Tearless tears and crying soundless cry; And the beauty of this charming night, All melts into this mirror of my solitude.
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