This Task

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I can see from your tired eyes that this task isn’t made for you.
The light flashed.
One, two, three.
Four, five, six.
The drum sounds louder than yesterday.
The colored lightstick thrown to the sky.
Yet, the melody never been sound so charming.
This is not what it should be, but you still play like this is the last day on earth.

You’ve never look dissatisfied like this.
And I couldn’t help but notice,  this task isn’t made for you.
Run to the east and walk like summer on winter.
Run to the beach and colored it yellow.
Backwards and repeat.

There were time better than this.
You should realize, that this task isn’t made for you.

Oh wait, you already knew it.

The White Hallways

You remember being young(er).
Where all the hallways are painted white and the light is brighter.
There’s a door in the end of the hallway and you know it leads to somewhere new.
You never doubt to open it and pretend to be someone else.
New adventure always awaits.

You always forget half of the story or the story behind the previous door.
But then it’s okay.
New adventure always awaits.

There’s a silver lining for everything.
There’s no fear frightened you enough.
New adventure always awaits.

It’s not a nostalgia.
Because you’re still being you after all these years.
You’re feeling weird, because everybody doesn’t.
They fear not providing enough, or planning enough, or thinking enough.
New adventure always awaits, if you’re thinking enough.

But then, you’re not everybody.
You’re not even young(er).
You try to forget the thoughts.
You don’t want to think too much.
Luck favors the beginner.
Let’s stay the same for couple of years.

The Number Game

2, 3, 4.
Shotgun blaze.

5, 6, 7.
Bloodbath.

21, 22, 23.
The famous tower.

34, 35, 36.
The Cambodian restaurant.

49, 50, 51.
The news outlets’ rampage.

60, 61, 62.
Paris.

74, 75, 76.
Beirut.

77, 78, 79.
Baghdad.

83, 84, 85.
Lebanon.

90, 91, 92.
Syria.

105, 106, 107.
Iraq and all countries suffered from the previous attempt of people’s act of selfishness.

118, 119, 120.
It is not about how many and the number you wrote on the screen.
Or the name of the city.
Or the name of the country.

127, 128, 129.
There is nothing more suitable than differences.
To be the blame for everything.
People will defend everything until they feel superior.
Or safe.

Ironic.
The common things left out of them, actually belong to one title.

Human.
You are not different with any of us.
And how dare you, playing God while walking on earth.

***

And today, let’s take a moment of silence for all ignorant, who pretends to care. Or not to care. Or just here to correct the fact and present the number. May the thoughts be forgiven.

And for people who found the unnamed street on the other side of the world, it’d be nice to touch the rainbow’s end. Until then, you know you’ll be missed.

Maybe Tomorrow

I might have a chance to remember you again tonight. It’s raining outside, and there’s a possibility of a heavy storm at weather forecast earlier this morning.

I might have a chance to remember you again tonight. Because I’m staring at these windows, with a cup of hot coffee. I’m sure it was hot earlier. I just forget how many minutes I’ve spent staring at darkness and get a glimpse of you. Twice? Five? Nine?

I might have a chance to remember you again tonight. Because I started to tune to this radio, a late night program called Heartbreak Radio and they play all of our memory songs. I’m not really sure whether my memory starts to play a game on me. I think whichever songs they play, it will make me remember you more.

Fragment after fragment of you. Spinning and moving in different direction. Calming and heartbreaking. Warming and chilling. As the rain gets heavier, I sit down hours after hours. Until the last drop of coffee and it doesn’t change anything about your memory.

I might have a chance to remember you again tonight. Or should I said, I do? Well, let’s just say I do remember you again tonight. This exact hour is the darkest it can be, of my thoughts of you. And I wonder if tomorrow I will have the same thoughts again. And how many nights that thoughts will visit me.

I’m running out of coffee. I’m running out of time. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Well, maybe tomorrow the rain will wash your fragments and it won’t matter what song they’ll play, my memory will last of this heavy rain.

The Column

At some point of your life, people will start giving you advice.

Some people of your age will give you hundred of articles that told you what to do when you are 20, 30, or maybe 40.

Some will ask you to settle down.

Some will say that you need to be as free as the wind.

Some will ask you to not change the way you are.

Some will say that the only constant change is change.

Some will ask you to take things seriously.

Some will say, just enjoy today.

You have a choice to read that or listen to them, but choose wisely what you are going to believe.

Afterall, you should not lose you.

You can always be hundred instead of one.