I don’t understand
This should be so easy
To just reach my hand
And know the world is free
But nothing’s, as it seems
I can tell you freely
Touching’s not the only way to feel

When the rain falls
It’s like heaven’s crying
When the name’s all
The difference that there is
Cause tears are
The same when they are trying to grow something good
Out of all the pain
There’s no difference between the teardrops and the rain.

I know you proudly say
That I’m just talking crazy
To think of life that way
Means that I’m confused
There’s happy and there’s sad
But maybe yes just maybe
The sadness can make the happiness more true

-pixel perfect-

   
   Not the thought but the act. Has it no strength? Wings are caught by an arrow and are pinned on a tree. Regretfully, it waits for the pray to come. So many eyes to cover, things to put on que, for they are my arrows. They stun me, break me. They erase my smile when the sun climbs up his stage.   

   Horns blowing, traffic flowing, smoke belching, just like any other day..

   Basketball is life framed by the perimeter of a court.  What is pain, but a guarding opponent that you need to pass through and get over with? What is a problem, but a play that you need to break? What is failure, but a rebound that you need to catch? What is a loss, but a rematch to look forward to? What is suffering, but a training for a bigger game? How can you treasure winning, if you do not know the meaning of losing? Why leave the court long before the game is over? It disheartens the team to see a player quit. Even the distant, distant spectators who are knowlegable mostly of only your form would have a crack in their hearts by the sight of a departure.

   -Who am I to say this anyway?  Well I'm sorry, I just happened to be someone who got soaked when the rain fell.