⪻Poem #04⪼
In her binocular world,
Life is down depressing.
Dark and grayish like cottons up above,
That have her moods like vines swaying.
Going unpredictable sun by sun,
Helplessly in hell stuck with no one.
Fishing problems for herself on the way,
She snuck herself into the dream land.
Forgetting everything she have,
For a play right of movie reality.
Forgetting counts of moon that pass,
Fleeing or freeing inside her fantasy.
