A Lament for the Dead

Unlike the majestic way of disguising things,
I can reveal all my secrets through a song.
same as the humming of a  bird to its mate,
or piping of a bee to a flower yet to be bloomed.

if I could have the lyre of that great healer,
the god of music and light, let him shine upon me,
through all my plague and darkness,
so I can create a new melodious way to suffer alone.

if you hear me when I sing that dirge,
I may be upon the top of my lungs,
mixing all the griefs with all the air I can fill in.
I will try to be aloud, I want them to hear this.

this song, about the death of an innocent dreamer,
who dreamed beyond their imagination,
to hide the truths from his other self,
like the wind which's stuck between Mountains.

he died for nothing but for pain.

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