At the peak of my youth
I stood at the balcony
In a palace overlooking
The garden of people
Flowers who bloomed, wilted and died
Grasses who grew and covered the land
Where past selves are buried in nameless tombs
Mementos of war between heart and mind
Should I jump from where I stand alone,
Hope to fall gracefully like plucked rose petals?
At least I know, if your butterfly self
Happen to cross at the empty air below
I will not hesitate taking the step
And simply grow wings in afterlife.