…YOU…
I love your glasses though I’m not seeing it.
The way you look, it’s stunning me though you’re far.
Your hair, it binds into my soul.
The way you hold your notebook,
The way you write,
The way you sit.
I hope you are my subject so I can focus my concentration.
You are my specialization for I spent more time looking at you.
No research can solve who you are,
And nothing can describe your worth and value.
I feel depth, paralyzed and all,
I feel damn, shit and all.
Knife, arrows, bullets and all,
Are simultaneously going through my body.
Why do I feel this sensation?
You are my vices,
Secretly addicted,
Drowned slowly,
And take my breath out.
Dying for a reason,
And it hurts me more,
Knowing I lighted the dynamite,
That can blow me to destruction.
