In Retrospect
Maybe I am writing to impress, and not to express.
Maybe this ius not really what should be written here.
Maybe this is not what my heart is for.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I need to start to really write.
Back to the old times when I didn't have to care.
Back to the old times when I can just share.
I have so many stories to tell
But whenever I try to start, I always find myself lost.
The problem is not the lack of words.
There are so many words in fact.
The problem is the existence of the purpose.
When purpose is bleak, that's when I can't compose anything.
Back to the old times when all I have to do is but sit,
Grab a cup of cappucino and thoughts start flowing
Like an ocean or river, thoughts smoothly flow.
But now, all I have are restrictions in my head.
All I have are worries at the back of mind.
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