Noche

I. The child in white resembles the rage that is currently drenched by the acid water from the bottomless skies. His red balloon is slowly letting itself go from the innocent grip of the young boy. As if he has no bravery left in him. No judgement. No attention. No. Nothing.

II. It is easy for us to run barefooted through the wet ground and misty sight. But it will be hard for us to be found, no matter how "found" we are going to feel while we're drifting in the silent song of the rain. It is an endless misery that every single lost soul has to feel in their pitch black life.

III. The rain is shattered on the tip of my tongue. The distance between the sour blue stars and midnight smoke is getting blurred as the night grew colder. Tonight we can write the saddest lines; feel, or nothing at all.