The Right Direction

Dead ends at four directions.
My compass is bleeding misery and hate,
Where is that tunnel?
With that yellow bright light
Shadows of dead corpses
Darkening that yellow house.
A squeaky door,
A jammed window,
And a grey rag.
Who painted it blue!
That house was…
My beginning and end.
My fate is hanging by an arrow;
Undecided, confused by mysterious fields.
I go round, and round, and I twist;
Like a small hurricane
Too amateur to destroy, too collapsed to lead
Until I drop dead, like a sand storm
Covering the horizon with dust, only dust
Spreading, like a powerful army.
Still, power is not the key.
I can conquer but I cannot always win
'Cause I killed the compass of my right direction.

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