"Since birth, their legs hath been forced onto the strings"
"To decide, mockingly, which side will thou fell?"
"Curse god's expectation, as if there promises onto these newborn soul."
---------------------------
"So, have you decided yet?"
sigh
The aroma of the coffee filled the surrounding with bitter pale sweet scent. My eyes glance into the cup, which i am holding gently with my little hands. The blackness, a void, pulling me in as the fluid collide between each layer.
"Blackhole". I muttered softly.
The waiter had a tired eyes, with the expression impending onto the choices which i am late, to decide. I felt a lump of guilt in my throat, To halt and waste his time. Regardless, the aroma pulling me again, like a blackhole.
"blackhole". I muttered softly, again.
The waiter patience run thin, his expression shows a confusion onto these words i chose. He run through the menu, looking for a dinner name's "blackhole". I pulled back slightly, giving him access onto the menu card. What if he were to ask the meaning of my words? I don't even know why i repeat it, like a human was made to crashed into the brick wall again and again.
but,
"alright then, if that's all your order is. I will bring it in another 10 minutes." that's what he said.
He walked away with a natural expression, carrying his steps like his job. It was never about the job, It was responsibility. The weight of your shoulder, the shear strength of willpower, that's what carved in his eyes.
Save the chit chat about the waiter, I began to went through with the paper which was assigned to me. I was never here just to say "blackhole" all the time.
...sigh
Another sigh yet once again. My hand grazed onto the edge of the paper, the texture griped my heart like a reminder of the workload i need to finished before due date.
"I wonder, if these white ash paper would turned red crimson."
Once again, nonsense filled my mind. Maybe, to distract myself from the work. Or to reveal the unravel truth under these white pale ashen paper.
.....would the paper turned crimson red?
As my mind drifted slowly into the random thoughts, my eyes catch the gliding molten golden of the moonlight. The coldness etched to the veil of my skin, as if longing to prove its existence, even for a brief of time. I gazed up to the sky, struggling find my way trail of my eyes.
Weird. Moon shouldn't be this bright.
It is safe to think AT LEAST, that world don't want red crimson paper. The moonlight shine, exaggerated the white ash color of the sheets. Too bad, Today, i don't have white ink. Neither the world.
"Does this mean that the world deny my desire?"
"Or does God's expectation knows better?"
"Like the apple from above."