As i rummaging through the fog, Wondering "where on earth did i put you!" The shortness of breath, The sweat on my forehead, How intense the imagination running wild, Of everything that might happen. . . "The time is up! Give me all you've got!" I frowned and the sense of regret seems to fill me, Not because it don't matter, It does matter, But because i see that thing, and all the other thing, and i decided, Everything is rent due now. . . "You seems to hold yourself back", "I'm froze...everything is rent due now", The tug of war, Between choosing or doing, Looping itself over and over again. . . How does it feel, When serenity can be forced, Like a flip of a switch lights up a room? . . "Serenity" if it was a person, Never find it is enjoyable, To spend the whole day, Thrilling themselves, Shouting until their throat become coarser than a sandpaper, Riding a roller coaster. . . "The choice is in your hand" My playfulness are not supposed to define me, What looks like my choice, Is just the fog i rummaging my way through.