Perhaps life is cruel after all.
Perhaps even dreams too will fade away
With the morning sun like darkness
Of the night. Perhaps all those yesterdays,
Locked in monochrome memories,
Never came. Perhaps all we ever did
Was to live in a dream of love.
Then we woke up with the sun on our face
All alone, while the bed beneath
Overflowed its corners with emptiness.
Perhaps life is too barren after all
And too short. No one knows when they would fall.