I don’t know what you’re saying
No idea of what you mean
This goes beyond this simpletons
Degree of Poetry

What I need you see is a rhyme
Like Mary’s Little Lamb
One I find in my own time
Will easily be grasped

Using simple words
With no need to look them up
Toss in the till, one syllable
And then wish it good luck

I don’t need my poetry
To dig itself too deep
Skimming along the surface
Is plenty fine by me

My hope is that this explains
Why I write the way I do
Just keep it simple stupid
If you must know the truth

i remember she used to always tell me, it's okay to cry.
she gave me that look that said everything. as if she was silently telling me than it was okay to not be okay, to be broken, to be absolutely destroyed.
i'll always remember that side hug and proud look. the hand squeeze and happy tone in her voice when she boasted about me.
i'll remember everything now that you're gone.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

today,
i wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

today,
it's too thick and dark
did i overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
i'm fine.

today,
i look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so i applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.

as i look through my window
i cannot find his light
he’s nowhere to be seen
i’m all alone tonight

his presence calmed me
silent and serene
his warm yellow shine  
a sight unseen

oh please come back soon
i miss you so much
i’m off to bed now
please stay in touch

sitting as the scissors trim, hair falling to the floor all dark and wet,

I watch her twirl fragments into sections, watch the sharp, quick movements,

and I gaze, haphazardly, at the girl in the mirror

who sits within herself, makes faces when the brush pulls too hard, smiles slightly when our eyes meet,

and that is when I stop watching the hairdresser but her face instead,

that girl, my sister,

so beautiful and sweet.

your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign

We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

I ride the waves of sorrow
to join eternal bliss
I await a kindly person
to plant a gentle kiss

I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer

Her soul is bleeding,
her colors are fading;
instead of becoming nothing,
she chose to give away her everything.

And so...

The world around her
suddenly turned brighter,
and there she was
slowly becoming duller.

The pain was unbearable
yet she silently endured it all,
she held the brush in her hand
and painted until the end.

I should’ve
waited
for someone
like
her to
come
into my
life.

Uncle Vanya Nyet

I ain't seen nothin' Yet

THIS.  IS.  LOVE.  

yell it until the vein on the side of your temple pulsates, pulsates in my 21 year old mind

yell it until the bruises are gifts

yell it until the anxiety is your inspiration

this time of year feels like a memory already

Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

Monday,
We woke up looking perfect, right?
Tuesday,
We're kind to everyone cause it's what we love to do, right?
Wednesday,
Put extra makeup on to hide the evidence of last night's beating, cause if anyone found out they'd laugh and tell us to **** it up, right?
Thursday,
We laugh because crying ruins our image, right?
Friday,
. . .I got in a fight.

I don't know about you but even on the moon's brightest nights,
it's still got a dark side,
Maybe we don't always see it, but it's there,
So don't judge me when I miss the mark on "perfection"

You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

someone once told me
you never forget your first love
you always love them
maybe in some strange twisted way
your brain forgetting
all the pain they caused
you love them
and i think they were right
because in a way
i love you
and i think i always will
for some nonsensical reason
i will never see the world
the same because of you
and sometimes i wish
i could change that
erase you from my thoughts
as you distort them
with your unwavering power
but then i remember
i wouldn’t want it any other way
you have shaped me
into the person i am today
and because of that
and i wouldn’t change a thing

- i'll never forget you

There is a wolf that stalks me in the night.
I hear her howls as I am confined to the gnawings of my mind.

She bore her claws in me once,
and I am now marked by the scent of a blood so bittersweet.
When I am weak, she lunges for me with daggers for teeth.
I am her eternal prey,
caught in a slow-burning wildfire.

The only path in sight, leads me to her lair.
It is the only place of refuge for the inferno that surrounds me.
My path is one from which I cannot hide,
for my blood makes a trail for this she-wolf of the night.

I await her presence. I have been here before.
But this time I do not know if I will make it out alive.

It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Under the mango tree where the shade is dark and deep
she waits with years on her skin.

The face though weary with the burden of time
has not yielded to the fate
of having once loved and lost.

She believes the winds from the barren field
will one day carry the rustle of footsteps
raising a song from within earth
that the moment is arrived
for the dead river to rise in tides
and flood her cheeks with the sapplings of
all the unplanted kisses.

When the nights come
the fireflies would sing
love is such a beautiful thing
basking in the glow of her heart.

you
are the everything
causing me to be
broken
empty
lifeless

you
did it
it is all
you
your fault
why

me
forever damaged
full of hate
all for
you

Nothing can justify your silence,
Unless you really don't want to talk about it.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Gathering into the hatchway
I push my breath from rest
in the clouds and adventures
into the city with my sister
who would rather walk and breathe
and push her body out and away
from convention and comfort
while I try to make up excuses
to use the car.

She stops to notice the police
trying to corral unruly homeless
while I seek refuge on a grassy *****
with a few of my elders enjoying the sun.

I know the city and the commerce
that has gashed through soil
of this once quiet prairie
to construct one steel obelisk
after another
making art and poetry sad afterthoughts.

Now it is time
for me to move my creaky bones
into a day yet to aborn
beyond my bed,
to wash myself in the infinite seed of creation
splashed upon me
with each dawn.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂,
𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒅, 𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒆;
𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐, é𝒍 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓á 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒔,
𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂, 𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒊ó𝒏;
𝑨 𝒗𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒂 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒕ú𝒏𝒆𝒍.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓,
¡𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔, 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!
¡𝑺𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏, 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒑𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!

¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒐, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
𝑬𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂, ¿𝒅ó𝒏𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕á 𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓?
¡𝒀 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒐, 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐, 𝒚 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓á!

𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í 𝒖𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐,
𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒐 𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆;
¡𝑨𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒅í𝒂, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒗í𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓í𝒂!

𝒀 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒐 𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒔,
𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒔;
¡𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒐 ú𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂ñ𝒂𝒓!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏;
¡𝑬𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒓á,
𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒂!

~~

𝑨𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒉á𝒍 𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒃â𝒚á𝒏,

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒅á𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕â 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒉á𝒏𝒂𝒏, 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈;
𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒘𝒊𝒅, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒕â𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒅 𝒍á𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒌𝒕𝒐, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕û𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏;
𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒑 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂,
𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏!
𝑨𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒑𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏!

𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒂, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏, 𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈?!
𝑨𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊-𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊, 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏,
𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒍ô𝒔 𝒐 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒐,
𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝒌𝒐;
𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒐, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒍á 𝒑𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔!

𝑨𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒐,
𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐, 𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒐;
𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒕á𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏á𝒌𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒐!


𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐,
𝑳𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂