...

Tired of honing relationships on fibs,

I wish I could've blamed it on the rest.

But unfortunately,

I'm the fool of a liar 

Everywhere I go.

Starting from my weeds,

To the farmland in front,

I have disposed myself off of this broad planet

And lived concentrated in the narrow tip of this pen.

Losing foothold during an escape from the escape,

I clutch onto a barbed branch,

Just to bleed and bleed and bleed,

And to hang on,

And bleed.

Is this all there is to me,

Tearing truths and plain agony?

I need to let go.

But when can I be able to loosen the hold?

...