Sitting on the branch of a buttonwood tree
Singing children's songs composed of words
I can cry if I want to.
As long as I feel sad
My tears are the tears of my soul.
Although sometimes it's just for a wild fruit.
I smiled happily.
Laughter is like a tinkling river.
This laughter is my heart.
Even the stone will be amused by it.
I dare to hate
Never dodge.
Vent anger
I dare to pounce and bite my opponent's nose.
I dare to love.
Not shy at all.
My face is the mirror of my thoughts.
Red is blood.
What is hot is fire.
I hate myself now.
This well-dressed, gentle and mature me
I learned to cry without tears.
I learned to smile with tears.
I once sang insincere compliments.
I have expressed my disgust against my will.
The net woven by the secular world wraps me tightly like a poisonous snake.
I suffocate, I struggle, I shout-
This is not me! This is not me! !
Let the thunder and lightning split me into pieces!
Let the fire burn me!
Give me back a childlike and transparent me.