Perhaps a paradox,
but I have seen roses grew on the ice;
an old flame burning with vapors of guilt
in the blowing wind for ignition
as well as an apology quoted with
anagram of love.
I am drowning in the fear of unknown
and becoming a rebel
(the forgotten one
in between the saints and the sinners)
— a devil which is injected
with toxic medicine of fake life and
held captive in prison of this selfish world.
Will you wake up from the war
and forgive the accused on trial,
if I write you a love song with a heavy heart?
Will you peace-out with my misconduct
to save a life by reaching out for the angel
falling from its grace?
Will you quit the resentful sleep
for a beautiful dream?
And if not,
close your eyes once again to look deeper
and tell me...
Don't you see two teenagers,
pieces of a broken rock,
poorly put together in the twelfth of never?