Lost Steps

In my country, there was a case:

A girl was hit by a car. The car belonged to an officer. And guess what?

Her life was covered up, her future taken away. Her story ended.

But you know, her story remains untold. The case was closed, all because they claimed she was "drunk." From eating a strawberry.

This is how Lost Steps was born.

My poetry comes from moments like these, from observations like this.

Do you feel it too, as if it echoes from a thousand years away?

I may know only a little of the immortal, but it could be a gift for you. Perhaps it was prepared for a warm evening.

Just letting you know, it’s yours to take now.