As time pours me waters of life
The detergents of struggles emerge
My hands is wary waving those ions
And the whirlpool of both sweetness and pain...
Is one in the eye of my future.
Time is ticking and bubbles slowly appear
and the inertia of my story to tell is similar
forming a foam and weight non-sense.
The span of time makes the bubbles airborne
and the flows of the whirl in the water..
becomes calm, slowly disappearing...
The pale becomes empty
leaving traces of those detergents,
to commemorate the bubbles that once appeared.
