Wrong Passion
The wet arid desert, the satisfied starvation.
she rides on this infected horse for long,
praying it never stops running, she prayed,
into this unknown pit, the farther she goes.
She gasps for an optical lens,
did not find, only it handles.
She looked for this, seeking her wings true nature,
yet all she sees is opaque vision embedded in chaos.
When sleep says her name, she accepts it calls,
calls to a delusional universe, at which opinions exist.
wake up, she hears her mom dragging out of this universe,
she wakes up with this scramble thought, tears sitting on her eyes.
The ways she followed, she found disappointment at it ends.
as his true being sprout out, careless it came out.
Like the seed of a plant, it germinated.
It rises up quietly and innocently.
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