I am no longer pure.

Even though the sky is still blue,

Yet I am no longer pure.

The fish swim in clear waters,

But I am no longer pure.

Dew clings to the petals, only to slip away unnoticed,

And I am no longer pure.

Raindrops trace their inevitable descent, unyielding to their fate,

But I no longer care for anything.

I am no longer pure.

Pleasure and despair,

Courage and fear,

Continuously fill me, one after another,

With a suffering that knows neither end nor respite.

It’s a feeling that makes me utter a prayer,

One that I wish to whisper softly:

The one standing beneath this vast sky, who has never forgiven himself even for a moment,

Hopes that God too will never, even for a moment, forgive him.

This escaping self,

Fleeing from anything that could remind me of how I lived,

Finally, a part of me,

No longer cared what would happen to him.

Finally, it no longer mattered

Where his emotions resided,

Which path they took,

Or where they were drawn.

He existed in a world

Where his heart had long ceased to feel.

The flickering light in the air, which made him wait and hope for a dream to bear the weight of the greatest impossible chance of his life—

Had lost its meaning.

That light would never shine for him again.

The impossible desire that once deeply affected him

Was now a vague memory,

A memory slowly fading away,

Of someone who, from now on, could only whisper in shame:

"I am no longer pure."

Even though the sky is still blue,

Yet I am no longer pure.

In life, there are things from which you cannot escape, cannot move past, or make a right decision about. You merely hope that all of this is just a dream, a fleeting moment that, fortunately, will not have significant consequences, without having any idea of how it will continue. Eagerly, you surrender yourself to them. Moments of brilliance where yesterday and tomorrow will no longer have any meaning. A place where you lose yourself, and the only thing that can bring you back to reality is the very thing that shattered you from the beginning. While you cannot move a step forward from where you stand, you simply surrender yourself to the now shattered and disturbed flow of fate. Even though you know it’s foolish, you still long to have them. Like pounding on the door of misfortune. You still stand behind that door, knowing that it will never open again. Because waiting has become one of your inherent habits. With memories and feelings you still lack the courage to let go of, you continue to wait. While every corner of your heart is cracked from past remnants. You still cannot refrain from plunging the knife you have driven into your heart. While accepting that from now on, the only thing you can wound is yourself. The place where you can be sure that your heart, once filled with joy from having such feelings, is now broken.