I was always awkward with the love my parents gave me,

so maybe that’s why it’s been so hard

to smile and accept things that I don't deserve.

My empty laughter

gradually changed as time passed.

Yet no matter how much the days changed,

the festering wound in my heart refused to disappear.

In a dark room,

a single ray of light shined through a crack in the window,

and I waited,

believing in the possibility that if a wish was made,

it would surely be fulfilled.

I’m happy now

but I’m holding my breath.

Just like there’s the calm before the storm,

you can’t immediately put out a burning flame.

I observe sad adults that only turn backwards

and those who pass their twenties always look weary.

I admit that back then I didn’t quite understand.

Our only similarity was being different.

I grew up,

turned away,

and left you.

But it seems I can’t help but resemble you now.

Even if the ambition that was given to me is lost to fear,

a small hope still hides inside,

always rooting for love before it's too late.

Yet young us,

always too naive to count the years,

ignore the clock and sway in darkness,

our eyes blinded by brilliant lights.