Thread:Lady Furude/@comment-35262387-20180826191855

Spring. I love spring. I hate spring. My weakness is attached to it. It brings me wounds of sad romance, The light of endless hope that saves us in heaviness.

Spring. I see it lets me shine, It is a medicine to the despair of mine. I know it lets me write the poetry of white; that can't be called right.

White color of my Spring contains many things inside. I feel and see it all, its glaring set of lights of Black and White; and all the rainbow colors that let my world grow up. and all the tragic colors that make my world give up.

it tastes like wine: driving me mad and drunk, making me forget: this life is sharp. the older this wine is, the more drunk it makes me feel. it tastes like PAIN: making me recall the present's strain, driving me mad once again. the older this pain is, the more strain it makes me feel.

I want to forget my spring, forget how nice it is, forget how warm it is, how cold, how SAD, how much it makes me remember the PAIN.

I want it to come and make me become the happiest one. just for one last time. before I finally die.

before I wake up under the SAKURA'S TREE, before I fly as it sets me FREE. before it becomes true, the perfect DREAM before I eventually fall into PEACE.

before I get my deserved life under the rays of sun drinking the sweet nectar flying to the bright sky.  