I will remember
I’ve been counting to ten, till the ten got the grip.
Yearning for past and the past right behind me,
Calling for sense in the dreams of surrender,
Asking for help from the people who owned me.
Skills are far from pretender of knowing
Of the path that is yet to be seen.
Sow the seeds of my thoughts and beginnings,
Reap the lengths of the ones that I don’t.
Show me light at the end of the tunnel,
Give me hope that is worth to be lived.
When I’m thinking of swallowing anger
And the anger’s the one who goes free.













