The shattered night has shattered down again
just to hold the pieces or shatter itself again?
The veil of the moon is finally drawn
or the pleasant time is permanently gone?
what am I know? the sentimental or the psychopath
the weirdo or the smart one surprisingly without abs
have I been torn into broken pieces of paper
or am I the one who scissored this taper?
Am I been rebuilt just to get destroyed once more
or this feeling is the freaking feeling of toes in the shore?
carefree, pleased, obliged or should I be sorry
or should I restudy my history like that of Harari?
my feelings are just minerals in seawater
not only indifferent but making me whole
and sometimes the scope is much broader
yet it pinches in my heart, ya your captive hole