what's left is ink

stranger

The sky's clear and blue, 

The atmosphere's the same as what it used to; 

Today's another rising of the sun, 

And my lonely breakfast is already done 

I took a sip of my favorite black coffee, 

Rushing, I  got a bite of the toast prepared by me; 

'It's normal, self, smile! 

Drive your car through the miles!'

Looking at these strangers' faces— 

They seem just fine, doing their own business; 

Some workers got gossips and packed lunches 

Sharing many laughters

The cars are too much of traffic on my way home, 

And I get the chance to look at the people— 

They're either concentrating on the road 

Or look looking through their phones 

The people, the crowd— 

They seem okay, 

Going through the day 

The people, the crowd— 

They are many, 

They must be different 

Because as I'm looking 

At the people, the crowd— 

I am hoping— 

That maybe I'll find you 

In their souls, 

In their eyes, 

But I haven't, 

Or maybe I did, 

Because now, 

You're becoming just like them too— 

A stranger— 

I don't know anymore