That was not me..

I am not me,

when I start to think of

miserable stuffs.

I am not me,

when I’m home.

I am not me,

when I  laugh exaggeratedly like

Madame Watson’s 6am car horn.

I am not me,

when I gaze at an open-window

for 7 200 seconds,

like a 100 year-old Grandpa;

who’s humbly waiting for his death.

I am me,

when I’m alone;

like a jar full of disasters,

asking for relief.

I am me,

who make bad decisions and

wrong choices.

I am a broken-window,

in our neighbor’s old house.

I am a garbage,

full of wastes,

junks

and scraps.

I am me,

who seeks attention;

like a toddler,

playing tambourines.

I am a 4am thought,

who longed for  kindred spirits.

Last Monday night, you asked me:

Are you alright?

I’m fine.

I answered with bliss but

that was not me.

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