He drank these thoughts to the bottom.

Not in the rain, until the morning.

It wasn't a tear that fell from the sky.

Eyes closed to these feelings.

He remains silent—words are unnecessary.

Somewhere he will forget, in places of silence.

There, ships sail in the clouds.

All promises are no longer important.

One, two, three, and already on the last page.

Habit quietly fades away like a shadow.

One, two, three, and already indifferent.

Fly away from the cage forever, little bird.