The Taste Of Regret

s o u r

The sun succumbed to the moon--

the light of the day vanished into the darkness.

It was the time like this that we're vulnerable, less pretentious.

The barricade we set rests to the ground at night.

and then there's a weeping,

like the oceans at night crying for attentions.

If we define it in our vocabulary, it would mean as the most absurb thing,

the weeping.

But it feels right;

the warms of tears running down to the sands,

heavy emotions,

the vulnerability--sometimes we forgot that we need to be

weak in order for our strength to comeback home...

we forgot that vulnerability is not wrong for a man.