the weakest strength inside me.

There are so many things. It takes all my might. I realized I’m not that strong. For I’m such a weak soul. I cry, cry and cry. By then, I grasp my will in the deep sorrow travelling through my veins, surge off my strength. In split, I discover my hand under the muddy road of life, in front of the kneeled tired legs, below the innocence sky that drifting away. Tears, shudder, and disheartened, would it understand the wrecked soul under the sculpturing of rough life. I might not forgive them, but for I’m not even deserved the slightest forgiveness, who am I to judge? Sometimes, this beautiful life that we devour is not meant to be questioned, should just live up by the life. Without question, without anger, without anything, just keep breathing and walking, together. Held my head ups let the stream flow drowning the ground with the tears of hope. I'm not losing until I’m giving up; well I’m not living in this swirling path just for myself. The concealed ties between the livings are worth fighting for. Like ripple at the plain surface of purest water, the parallel intertwined effect just follows the physic’s law. It is all beyond my will power, beyond us. This life is not just about me. In the closing eyes, grasping for air, heartbeat is raging, my hand is screaming crushing everything within and there goes my little coward soul following the light of hope to the path of life, with the love it is comply.