To stop feeding it


In fading memory of us,
filling up the free slots, the lightnesses 
abandoned to be confirmed by the stainless life 
to be free from your doubt and disbelief.

I sketched it like taking a slow step forward, when too many things need to be proved, instead
I was exhausted in general from losing scenery of being left over, tasting like a mental test. And then, 

I found it pop out from the dark in a sudden, spending a while
to rethink about the distance and distaste, connecting to your fractured memories of someone 
in the past, I still fed it to let it grow. 

No matter what life you have led, it is nothing but
the thing you left unhealed, reflecting into the strangers, and reappearing in your thoughts.

Now all that reaches your ears becomes a blade,
all that comes closer to your eyes becomes an awl, and 
that grazes your skin becomes a pair of
scissors you try to take from me. 

Who do I wanna be? Now I feel 
the time that will vanish if I refuse it, being easily erased 
in your pride, 
and justification.