January, 2014, full of warmth.
I chased my dreams, full of trust.
Hoping for me and my best friend could through it, in the name of my lucky number.
They told me “that’s perfect!” And I think so.
I told myself “you jumped out from your comfort zone!” And I think so.
A week later, I dragged down to the deep rotten space when I saw the truth.
I spent my day and night, for that stupid zero numbers, a hundreds.
I paint it all, I carved it all, I pushed it all, for that stupid zero numbers, a hundreds
Now I throw it all back to the past.
Rumor said if we should leave the past in the past to find the future.
Another rumor said if we should not forget the past. But today is just a day after yesterday.
I know why, I lose my faith for unknown reason, I saw another me inside myself.
He puts his fake smile, cold as broken ice.
Sometimes Isadora Duncan wonders, why people love her dance.
Sometimes her family wonder, why it must her scarf that dragged her down.
I used to passionately painted from grey, the colour of mouse’s fur, the colour of serene warmth, and it’s never changed. Red wine is another cheerful-me, Teal is another mature-me, but how if I found another colour.
But I won’t forget it, even I was trying so hard to forget it. January, 2014, when the warmth changed to cold. Cold as broken ice.