Voices whispering,
along with the winds,
Listening,hurting,
halting the teary eyes.
Patches heart,
never mind the wounds,
Another part,
of life,eventually dies.
Let us live,
without regrets,
we will see,
blooming beauty,it will give.
It is not easy,
countless stabbing of emotion,
Bloom like a daisy,
and let the past stay hidden.
We are the droplets of unvoiced matters, forming a puddle full of mud of our thoughts - forced out or poured down, it doesn't matter.
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