Hate the crying tired.
Do not want to go thinking.
Close my eyes.
Open mind.
Waiting disappear.
Cold memories.
Become a cruel history.
Even if not wake up.
Also waiting for the paradise in hell.
Weak light.
Distinct shadow.
Can not tell the reason.
The vulnerability of a grain of sand.
Will no longer have.
Everything is history.
But no one recorded Bale.
Finally,
can only say for themselves.
Bye.
But remember the words of the sea.
Be yourself.
The most real self.
You know to do