When words are broken and muteness erects,
Touches of caress seem relaxing.
Is that correct, My Lord?
You hold honesty and you carry love feeling.
And yet I feel sceptical, my Lord!
Bitterness is thickening, you force me to swallow it.
I cannot refuse that whilst you never really care.
Isn’t it true, my Lord?
This hope is wishing for your nods of concuring.
Somehow, what I ask for appears to be just imaginary.
It won’t be able to be real, even for just a tiny moment.
Are you invincible?
Those words are voicing and echoing.
You believe that you’ve never been wrong!
You force me to consent,
Albeit my body doesn’t want to do that.
You know what I mean, don’t you?
This hope is missing for the humming of confession.
No worries, my Lord.
I let them all happen.
All neglected rips
Exist solely because you have no needle and yarn.
Even if you had them, you wouldn’t want to knit them back.
Thus, you shouldn’t be filled with remorse,
If I just walk away.
The tracks of reminiscence perhaps will be everlasting,
However, I won’t go back.
These lines are going to be the witnesses.
Will you be repentant?
Will you beg for me?
Will you ask for me?
Will you even cry?
What else you can give me, my Lord?
+rangga+