I found a cloud
that may have led me to you
If I can float toward you
by the cloud,
I’m willing to accept every despair
Before the cloud shatters,
I want to ride it
and fly to you
with every hope and pain
A Cloud
The Ink of Dawn
The ink of dawn
begins to dye the Earth hope
that colorful days will come back
Monochromatic days covered with
fears and invisible walls
will end,
screaming silently
The ink of dawn
begins to draw a picture
full of hope
that sonorous days will come back
Toneless days wrapped in
fears and invisible walls
will end,
screaming emptily
A New Day
A new day rises
from the Hell,
to dye me bloody screams,
to dye me bloody grief
Mouth of the Hell
never allows me
to eat hope
Ears of the Hell
never allow me
to listen to joy
A new day rises
from the Hell,
with a cruel echo,
with the empty wind
Every time a new day rises,
I carve wounds on my skin
Imagination
An invisible wall
covers her view― but ―
Her indomitable soul
wants air
that grows her world,
her fingers
continue to carve
a lot of picturesque melodies
on her notebook,
and
her unbreakable brain
imagines graceful green and blue
again and again
Even the invisible wall
can’t take imagination
away from her
I Hate My Poetry
I hate my poetry
because they expose only my ugliness
that consists of only my past
that I want to avert my eyes
Even time can’t save me
from the ugliness
Even future can’t heal my shame and guilt
So, I write poetry
that I hate
To punish myself,
to lament myself,
I write poetry
that I hate
With A Fire
A butterfly hugs
a burning fire of resignation
She is dancing madly
She is fluttering desperately
Everything
that tries to swallow her wings
is burnt by her fire like a mouth of a devil
With empty soul,
she can dance eternally…
With blank life,
she can flutter eternally…
I’m Flying
I’m flying
with loneliness
that comes from past.
My wings are about to be torn
because of the weight of loneliness.
But I can’t stop flying because
only when I feel past,
I’m allowed to exit
from icy reality.
Yourself
Your skin is illuminated
by the hazy moonlight,
and tattoos appear
in front of your lamentation
The vulnerability
and grace
are yourself
who hides any pressure
The beauty
and transience
are yourself
who hides any pains
Still I’m In Winter
In the deep fog,
a tree stands,
spreading wings
These wings are covered
with snowflakes,
as if the deep fog
piles up on these wings
Although spring will come soon,
although daybreak will come soon,
the world still regrets
the separation from winter,
the world still regrets
the separation from
the sea of winter deep fog
Surely,
a silver carpet is beautiful
Surely,
winter deep fog is comfortable
Surely,
I’m still in winter
But I want to hear
the voice of spring soon
I want to see
fragile and warm hope
Veils of Gleam
Under the crescent moon,
she plants seeds of gleam,
imagining that
they sprout as veils of gleam
to wrap the world softly
Wounded days
are fluttering
around her,
but she never stops
imagining a string
to new days
She wipes her tears
with muddy hands
She smiles
with muddy face
Under the crescent moon,
she swears
to let veils of gleam bloom
