The world was commonly as we are to see deeply,
Sometimes it chose us,
Sometimes it betrayed us,
Who we are was never meant to be compared to it,
it neglected the way in how we believed it the most,
Hope that we supposed to hold to,
It became glimmered thus we knew the consequent,
The world does not make us perfect,
We are the one who make the world become perfect,
Whether we want it or not,
Life is like a pillow,
If we want to make it stuffed or scrappy,
It depends to our comforts,
And that is how we enjoy our sleep and mostly our life the most.
