Two Options:
Either you sip the warm cup of tea
Or you play the dusty flute
Both need breathing
And you can’t be late…makes sense?
The tea may go cold
The flute may shut its holes
The tune may turn its back
The breeze may turn into clouds
I may go into pain
I may gasp too much noise
I may go to war with my broken helmet
And I may end up being a shadow.
The war may turn into fog
The martyrs may fly away being fairytale birds
The goblins may hoard more greed
The tears may embrace bloodshed…..
But my cup standstill
My flute waiting to be blowed
The wall clock TikTok sounds endless
like the soldiers marching toward the fortune
