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Shreds of my past selves

Cover my lean body breezily

Do we ever hold our life in our own hands?

Swarms of illusions are all over

A token from extinct stars

Butterfly-lived brave hope-crowds

Gods never seen

At this point of space and time

Paradoxical phantoms spew out the questions "Why?"

Ever new corners are bent of infinite circles

To avoid claustrophobic shocks

Just like using pseudo-keys on nonexistent locks

Hearts, that have grown cold

Bleak scenes painted white

Soil scented sream roars from a buried child