Purpose
Life has a purpose for everyone.
I try to remember every night
Where I have lost mine.
Darling, you are nothing rare.
If you become a loser,
No one will care.
If you become a villain,
No one will dare.
These are poems of someone’s sorrow and grief,
Who hides in my memory and refuses to leave.
If you’re your own victim
It’s hard to live.
Some regrets still haunt my dreams.
When the moon hides,
Fireflies begin to fly.
I sit in front of my window,
Staring at the night sky.
I drown in my own sorrows;
I still write in silence
With a heart full of chaos.
The Book of Memory is empty;
There is no space
To make anyone stay.
There is nothing to look back on;
Maybe I lost that with myself.
The forgotten child is already dead.
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