it pours out from my words, not from my eyes

this is a loneliness that has been granted to my world.

offended like Oliver Twist 

I look at life as absentmindedly as I keep silent

your truths were stark naked

but what clothes did I sew for you

it is slipping from my soul, not from my hands

I could not count the countless letters I burned inside me.

faint like Oblomov 

I get caught in the traps as much as much as I fall

you did not see

it did not work, it did not match your nights..