Cold summer in the throes of icing

   We need everyone has their own cross of wood. 
   Involved in carrying the burden of despair 
   Too often we let the days darken. 
   We are ready to surrender when ripe. 
   Cold summer in the throes of icing, 
   I suffer from the cold half of the night, until I found 
   warm thoughts of the road, and fled utopia. 
   Eternal nightmare that is offered to us. 
   A pathetic clown for a new arena, 
   which may conceal the tears shed among the irony. 
   Today is a rainy day, and I photograph 
   lantern hanging in the air cans. 
   In the middle of boredom I created my photo pages, 
   they can be some boredom strikes peek.



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