You could imagine the despair,
Of having a creative mind, where ideas swiftly flow across,
Yet lack the proper language to convey its actuality.
They existed, yet they are not materialized,
Because of me.
You could imagine the despair,
Whenever I’m inspired in that long-standing, profound moment,
Because I’m unable to preserve its beauty and meaning,
Because I ‘m unable to translate it into proper expressions,
A wasted bestowal, to my despair.
Can you imagine my despondency,
Where one true love one could not claim?
Within my soul, the vibrant dancing that shook the world,
Within my head, the perfect sequence of the dance steps,
Yet techniques lacked in bringing them beyond thoughts.
Restricted, suppressed and despondent.
Even in daily lives, through living with people.
Conforming to social standards, that my soul protests everytimes
That slowly and subtly would my soul be eroded away.
Then, I stand as your very own re-made robot.
Created greater from within,
The passion is what that defines,
The drive is what that counts,
It’s either that,
Or to risk losing my entire soul.
