It's strange. I felt less lonely when I didn't know you.

Go then and find your refuge of selfless love.
I'll go and search the monasteries one by one.

In thousands of agonies, I exist.

Buried in your thoughts, I am detached from the chaos of the world.

You'll meet someone that makes you regret your kindness.

Ever since my house burnt down
I see the moon more clearly.

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Hurting them back will not heal your pain.

But, we must never hope in anything.
Hope is a terrible thing.

Her heart chooses to feel what her mind chooses to ignore.

Look into my eyes,
hear the words I can't say.

And I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

You made me believe in something that was not even true.

As if the clay you were made of,
was kneaded with rose water.

But why does everything you bring close to your heart must hurt so much?

I know that I am ruined, and that I'm ruining others.

This time the wounds aren't healing it's becoming more fresh as time passes by.

I was with them and yet I was alone.

In these times, appearances are more real than reality.

And sometimes, it's okay to miss what never belonged to you.

I might be the writer but you'll always be the words.