I can’t believe that the world in which I live in is all just a fake word.
I can’t even believe that the world where I live in is of humans who eat themselves to survive.
I can’t understand what greediness is, even after I am so much greedy.
I can’t understand what these feelings are which makes me write beyond I could reach.
I can experience the limitlessness that I can have with my life ahead but too short.
I know that you are not able to figure out what I say, and I don’t want anyone to be.
And my words best define me without letting anyone know.
Everybody have an incomplete broken part of my story and no one is one.
And I am the one.