每個人都有一段不願觸碰的記憶 塵封在心底
                                                                                         或許有一天你會不斷不斷去挖掘 卻發現那裡空無一物
                                                                                         我們歌唱 我們寫作 用最血淋淋的情感展示著我們的傷痛
                                                                                         於是人們感動了 想起那些存在的 亦或是不復存在的
                                                                                         但是他們曾經在那裡 對吧? 他們是曾經存在過的
                                                                                         找了千萬個理由 說服了自己 卻說服不了那灑下的滴滴水珠
                                                                                         "阿! 下雨了!" 望著朦朧的天 我說 
                                                                                         "傻瓜!那不是雨 是淚呢!" 他們說
                                                                                         在那回憶波動的下午我看見了自己的淚
                                                                                         晶瑩的閃爍在午後 是雨 是淚 熱烈刺眼
                                                                                         於是我為自己寫詩
                                                                                         彷彿是刀 筆觸下的字成了一道道的傷痕
                                                                                         不斷割開 顫抖 溢出濃稠的血色液體
                                                                                         痛楚 麻痺 失去知覺 
                                                                                         原來傷口 不能示人.....