When I was tired of living, my dream beckoned me from afar, hinting why I wanted to live each day, how I sprouted from a trivial seedling. he was like a soft gentle breeze; my dream. Patting on my shoulder, he showed, one day, I could become a sunflower; vivid and gleamy, spread my energy to surroundings like sun radiating the cloud//
But, if i die now, maybe, just maybe, my dream will be the only person weeping on my mourning. for then I would realize I didn't know I had someone to lean on.