I see you at the end of the tunnel
As a speck.
The more I get closer,
The smaller you seem to get.
How about you walk to my direction?
I refuse to sprint or run.
My stubborness is a default.
I should have kept myself
In that four walled vault of mine,
Books rearranged on my shelf
And gave no shit about signs.
Signs and their interpretations
Their sophisticated explanations
And shallow-based frustrations.
Should’ve just drank
That cheap Carefree bottle
And left my sentiments just.. Blank.
And not think about what I would’ve done this April.