I am sitting on a chair with numbered table,

holding a pen trying to figure out what to jot.

All these circuitary things doesn't concern me anymore.

My mind elsewhere... so does my heart.

It's not here, I know.

To force me on something I didn't like,

is torturing somehow...

Making me hate even more.

Why? Why I must do this?

Why i must satisfies others

while my heart filled with burden.

I wish I could choose my own path

My very own lane..

My tears freeze and my throat choked

How I wonder... I wonder..

I can choose on my own