Gone by

There’s so much to say, but it can't seem to grasp some praises.

So much to do, but it can’t seem to recognize by the
prejudice eyes.

So much to express, but it can’t seem to attract a little
sympathy.

How...when…to whom this vagabond could find a comfort?
 


Closed eyes, she thought of the past;

when love is shared without questions,

when comfort is anywhere to find,

when joy is the price for those who seek and sacrifice.
 

Opened eyes, she wept for pain.

For she saw how things change without a signal;

Ravage love exchanged by lost bandits,

Comfort is least found at home,

Joy is covered with different disguises.
 

She wandered with a hope of finding the door of the past.

On her way, she met different people carrying different
burdens.

And she realized that past is just a part of a dream,

A dream that has no place to this cruel world.