Leaving Sonnet from Secret Treetop by Annie Chen Octet

I wake up, but where, I don’t know.
I don’t just think, voice the question, to myself.
Where am I, maybe I don’t know, here’s in life.
Dusty morning light, maybe sometime raining.
I’ll stay in bed, there might be a man next to me.
More often left, I’m just alone, just me and the express way, running right next to my room.
Strain my ear,hear the song that I sing, hear the slow, nice and slow, look at the puzzle’s falling, rain drops are dripping.
Play,take the place, I just know someone’s crying softly, but maybe me, feel the pulse,
and the dream.
Wait on, weeping, so much that you swear, reach out for me.
Somewhere, leaving, I’m the part of it, where am I?
Step upon step, where should I be?

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