I run as fast as I could. I don’t know where to go, or if there’s any place that’d accept a failed experiment to the mutation—like me. I’m running, running until my feet got numb, until that numbness consumed my body–so that I won’t feel the coldest of the night, and I won’t feel the loneliness of being alone while running in the middle of isolated street with only the yellowish lights coming from the lamp post to guide my way.

Unfortunately, I stumbled down. I feel so empty. All that was left in me started fading–even my sanity. I can’t pull myself up. It’s like my knees were already made of jell-o. I don’t have the power to stand up, and run, and leave everything behind me. My vision was blurry because of the water of grief, streaming down my face. I pity myself, so much. I wish there’s someone out there who would offer a hand. I’ve waited. 30 minutes? 1hr? For pete’s sake, I’ve waited. But nah, none of them came. No one cares. None of them ever did.

I rested my head on my knees. Tears keep streaming down. Then suddenly I heard my own voice, singing the song that my mom has taught me before the world turned me into a huge mess.

And I lift my hands and pray 🎶

I can hear my own voice, stuttering, trying to utter the lyrics of this song that was once full of hope, full of love, full of bliss.

To be only yours I pray 🎶

“Come with me.”

I heard a voice, but this time t’was a strange one. I look up to see someone standing in front of me offering his hand. I don’t know why but my eyes fixed its gaze on him, not caring at all by the blinding lights behind him.

“Who are you?”

I asked. Even though I already felt that certain kind of knowingness, the familiarity.

“You know me my child. I know, you know me.”

I know now, you’re my only hope 🎶

The music stops here.



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