The Prodigal Son

Prodigal son

　　 || Wild gods

The melancholy crystalline cheeks slipped off

Childhood is like a fantasy with a stream of light

Warm and wet dreams even if shredded

My soul flew with the white clouds

The waves beat the reef comfortably

The undercurrent is raging today and yesterday

Vultures stare coldly above the cliff

I was fearless and still lonely back and forth

Life is endlessly involved in footsteps

There was no night wandering in the march

The devil frantically crushes the years

I know exactly who I am

When the hot blood is cold last year, It solidifies

The prodigal smile is not humble

Lost youth hunger and loneliness

Leave stoic romance and brilliance

January 30, 2010