29.01.2018
Weekly Anthoropology
The authors had no ambition,Their plots were only mediocre,
What is worse, they couldn’t win fame at all,
Their excuses were same, “It’s because I have no talent,”
They patched up coward expressions
by saying “I want to be loved.” in smile,
and drawing carelessly.
“If that’s the way,you can express none of what you want to,”
I know such a thing already,
The agitator can’t exist,
that flatters the selfishness of 70 billion loves and hates.
The plane can’t exist,
which is for watching the caprice of 70 billion people's compassion,
While We’re beat, the last episode has come,
Our treasure is over,
In fact, We had a story to express.
However, taking a look at the real,
all our works were rejected.
I dropped a tear-colored pen on the important page,
and got fed up with everything,
I crumpled “myself”, that is no longer in use
and threw it away into the drain,
The day will never come,
when 70 billion problems are solved completely.
The machine will never move at all,
that carries 70 billion discards named dreams,
We know my serial stories will be discontinued soon,
But we keep on drawing this work
and ourselves that is different from what we’d thought,
The tape will deteriorate soon,
that mends 70 billion injured hearts.
The musician will be shocked and scoffed at by the real,
that sings 70 billion people similarly.
While I’m beat, the last episode has come,
our youth is, our daily life is,
our treasure is over,
Yes, it’s over.