Four Days.

In the glimmer of seeing the light,
You became my opium,
When I first saw you as sunflower on the field.
You became my photographs,
When I should've burn long ago,
Or I should've been forever in that photo.
You became stronger.
When I.
All that is left is my will.
With some faint strength to go on.
You drained my soul,
Whilst hoping I'd weep faster.
As I'll forget you in four days.

If I was someone in your hues,
I should be one of your colors in life.
You'd hope I'd forget you.

Anguish kills the fire.
Cools the hate.
But it does not take the scar away.

It'll pain you forever.
The fire will spark again.
You'll find yourself fighting the fire.
With tears.
In futile.

You can take my life away.
But not my will.

Asyraf Amir. 20190408.