It’s one of those days that you look into the mirror you know your soul is missing.
Your eyes are big but they are empty.
You are wondering how to pretend you are more attentive.
You are seeking where you soul went without your notice.
Maybe it’s trapped somewhere that you have missed.
Maybe you could grab it somewhere hidden in the yard where nobody sees,
Maybe you could save it from the bottom down of the sink where water flush down.
It’s one of those days that you taking the last train home.
Rain and snow mixing together and they take turn to fly down,
They are like dandelion and they blur your version,
You wander around and curious about why people don’t like the kind of weather.
Your inner self tries to remind you,
Don’t miss the train it won’t have any coming.
It’s one of those days that you wish you were someone else.
You picture yourself in another body and capturing another way of living,
You imagine your world is more flamboyance,
You know that it might be just as unsatisfied as you feel now,
You know that another world doesn’t mean better,
But this moment you want to get there,
Because you don’t feel belonging here.
It’s one of those days that you know a good starting line won’t compose the story itself.
You know that consistency is the key,
But you can’t find the key.
And you lost the pen that continues with the good beginning line.
You know that you once can be someone.
You can once be a destroyer.
Remember a line of Of Montreal’s “you ain’t got no soul power”
Aren’t many people walking on the street are like that?
Suddenly you are scared to look around,
You are thinking you are melting into the Body Snatchers story.
You are becoming one of them,
Am I losing my soul power?
That living without soul, without tears, without real laugh,
Without transparency, where only fear exists.
Where are you? my soul?
I’m really getting scared.
I’m taking the last muddy train home,
or to somewhere else?