The Archer

In the season of cherry blossom,
Words were a tantamount of venom
Enduring to each fragile seconds,
Pale petals falling into thousands

The half reflection of the moon,
Given to her so soon
Yet remained still in deep waters,
Tainted like dark archers

I am maybe wounded
Scars that seemed conceded
I am taking back my world
Against dire futures that told

The dark side of the moon,
From mountains to endless dunes
Yet there's only one destination,
Into your heart's direction

In the season of velvet roses,
Awaits the lovely princess
To mend these bruised broken wings,
Of a canary in every bright mornings.