If you hate me for who I am,
then hate, you should;
but I hate it when I am being,
misunderstood.

I found no oceans
in your eyes,
no windy storms
or starry skies.
Neither a pearl
nor an ember
I could see,
just the perfect
reflection of me.

When striving through
a pitch-black night,
if you find yourself
marooned and blue,
lift your head high
and take a sight,
of the billion stars
all rooting for you.

Through these uncharted roads,
I hope to escape my recollections;
I am so tired of seeing signboards,
and following the same directions.

Tall buildings have always intimidated me,
but I somehow feel comforted, by an even taller tree.

A stranger lies behind my eyes,
I know not what he wants;
sells me dreams, tells me tales,
then with the truth, he haunts.