On my way to that righteous land of sun, I saw a grey cloud
It reminds me of an obnoxious, yet regretful person called me
Is it something that I should take a look at? Or I could abandon it as if it is only an immature statute of me?
But I looked anyway, and I wept
Because I know, somewhere, deep into the already-decapitated pride of mine, I saw me
Asking for help to the merrier me, to the lovelier me, to the braver me
But, I sometimes don’t believe in it, hence I forget it
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