My eyes follow
specks of dust
I talk to people
but just touch the crust.
In a crowded room
eyes seem mat
I want passion and magic
but everything is flat.

The specks of dust
catch no heat
the only thing indulating
is the line of my heartbeat

I thought for so long that
the answer is fate
But I’m tired of waiting,
there is no soulmate

Perhaps I am uncapable
to catch the specks of dust
I want it too much
and thus I am cussed

Is this it, for me?
Is there more, I’m unable to see?
If disregarding fate sets me free,
there is no excuse in which
I am able to flee.

So I stare into the air
feeling that life is unjust
while I crush with my hand
thousand specks of dust.