Papier-mâché

Back to the day when you first saw me hiding-- holding my tears --in my favorite dim room. You cupped my face And tickled me with truth. Told that flowers really could bloom;  Thorns were one part of growing from own roots. Noises were so used to deplete my inner bubbles; Mind was fond of getting crumbled. Deprived of calmness Shattered by bad hopes. Life was but an inescapable dreariness I hardly coped. Then, you came into the picture; You were breathily laughing Yet, sincerity was evident. Later did I realize we could happen. And we happened--a redirection to my life.

Didilat mula sa himbing ng tulog,  Wala na'ng dilim na bumabalot--maging ang kidlat at kulog. Sa pagsikat ng araw, sa pagtilaok ng manok. Bubungad ang mistulang mga matang nangungusap. " Bangon na't mahaba pa ang araw ," ang pakiusap. " Heto ang baon mo, kumain ka ng kung ano'ng gusto mo ." Isang ngiting sigurado ang lambing. Isang taos-pusong kurba ng mga labing gumising. Sa bawa't araw hindi lamang ikaw ang tilaok ng umaga; Hindi lamang ikaw ang unang " kumusta ang tulog mo " na sambitla. Ikaw rin ang huni sa mga oras ng panglaw. Ang badya ng masamang panahon, ikaw ang lumulusaw. Ang simpleng pagtapik ay ang paghinahon sa kalooban ko't sigaw. Sa bawa't araw na dumarating, Patuloy mong binabantayan ang mga hilik, Patuloy mong hinahagkan kapag nanginginig. Amoy, dama, dinig, kita ko ang gaan ng intensyon. Sa lamig, sa kaba, sa takot, sa kilig, sa lahat ng emosyon. Sa bawa't araw na dumarating, sa bawa't

The cry and sadness met in the same place Agreed to destroy one's immunity In this world of sorrow he shalt embrace His corse down to his soul's insanity The universe of gent makes nay wondrous For inside his soul art catastrophes Feelings w're made for solely perilous For words transform'd into anastrophes But my heart whispers, thou art life I owe Thy ghost creeps mine own spirit down to death O, ye wraiths were haunting me years ago Neither life nor death is worth the last breath. Fearsome to live this life without verses. For in life, all I had heard were noises.

[ B ]ehind those curtains hide a good, yet unseen play. Few characters were at the show; Plots got twisted; Popcorns got tasted. Playwrights were on the good flow From freshest start to sweetest bow . It was a great show after all; It's when I knew that it's just a start of the true fall .