angst We can’t be here While going nowhere Chasing a mirage In a concrete oasis. Walking on a thin ice With the misty eyes Ire roars, passion heats Miracles are imageries Angels are too high above We don’t want to be here. Share thisPrintFacebookEmailTwitterLike this:Like Loading... Related Published by Stephanie Suh I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome. View all posts by Stephanie Suh