Swaying of the trees,
Sound of the wind that flows through the leaves.
We're just a tiny drop in this vast domain,
That twist, tangle, unravel and connect again.

Putting on our masks, putting up with the world
Secrets that lie deep are never ready to unfurl.
Running from ourselves and never looking back,
Because we know all that lies there is black.

What we speak is worlds apart from how we feel.
If we could only share how much we conceal,
Only then we can be at peace,
Like those swaying of the trees.

-  _the_someone