Dies
A poem to the girl beneath an oak tree
I can’t like the thing I hate
I’ll stay live after this
Though, I wanted to die
How about if I try to die now…?
I may never love myself again
I have just too many to count
I don’t have just that kind of–
courage since the beginning
I don’t have many surplus to laugh at people
I keep looking up, wouldn’t be able to sleep
I want to stop my ultimate deceive to people
Stop thinking about dying to be able to sleep
Live through my day’s
Even if I hoped it’ll change
It would be the same laugh
So I’ll laugh again and again