O life! You are guilty
you owe me a youth
I was a child, I walked its narrow streets like a rusty guillotine,
I have accumulated cliffs with my fears
with my pale lips,
a hopeless night, staying in the dark
while feeding platonic feelings
seasons have come and gone
ignited ticking time
the melody of melancholy began
my young heart, my old soul,
To this universe that is not dusty
What good is the beat of your heart?