A husk that I was in was never the great that I have done.
Lies and mistakes that I believed and begun.
There's no change in my doings,
Just the less noise I'm making.
There was no space:
for me,
for change,
for friends,
for family,
for peace,
and/or a solemn place.
If I have something to prove, I would be wrong.
If I have something to show, it has to be redrawn.
If I have something to say, words won't be seen as displayed.
For all the cases, I was not innocent for the mistakes I played.
In my little white space,
I was a device ready to detonate on a slow pace.
In my little white space,
only bottles and jars of thoughts that I, myself, have to embrace.
In my little white space,
even the thoughts of friends have to be erased.
In my little white space,
I thought it was a safe place, but became something I have to escape.
I escaped, not in a way you will feel relief.
That escape is just a way to believe.
I believed that I can finally breathe,
Because every time I escaped, I thought:
I would be stronger,
I would be better,
I would overcome the person I was, and yet,
The hole just became deeper underneath.
I was surrounded by walls that I made.
Maybe that was all for the lies and mistakes that have to be paid.
Maybe the exhaustion of my breath is the way I can repent.
Maybe in death, I will still feel discontent.
A cave that is hollow,
A cave that I covered,
A cave that I refuse to open,
A cave that is my mind,
A cave that will forever be the same,
A cave that has no longer tales to tell,
A bear living in that cave would have to say: Bear-well (Farewell).