we are sophomore,
at the shouting we become "suffer more"
suffer more.
and more.
and more.
ideas are like a kind of fucking elementary creature
which occurs to me every second in great abundance.
but most of them are so lame,
only a little piece of thought,
or some hurtful memories,
like you
who always walk into my mind without noticing me beforehand.
while studying, walking, dreaming, crying or laughing,
some memories are just like cockroaches, crawling around nastily
they are everywhere. nightmare. with every scream and violence to defeat yet in vain.
or perhaps they are more like butterflies,
which is so beautiful while they're far away,
but so creepy while they are near at hand.
when can we kill all these unnecessary ideas?
kill them all, lay die.
and wait for another resurrection.
end.
