Upon empty paper sky I wrote gloomy cloudy poems Every drop of ink from it melted and drizzling upon me In a rhythm so unrhythemically it told thousand tales of tragedy Whispering to the leafs when they drumming upon them Even grasses are dancing in the wind and singing, welcoming it Without any rhythm my ears drink this chaos And in it those tendered wind of the tragedy Of the unknown, for the unknown into my mind through feelings