tremble and fears the ultimate,

nah, still not the very end even if

ground is shaking a little bit —

my father asks me to forward the news

paper, a little modelling figure and has the capability

of containing all affairs.



darn— he gawks & thrown it across the floor,

"It's the same topic, occurrences happens

same as ol' time." I don't know what to do to

cease the tension, but I shrank back

into my seat.



true, yearners of all time faced the same

trembling quack in their heart, leap to one

another, finally settling down in one state

of pragmatic matter.



I wouldn't dare to pick the pen,

use a sword— penning the rebellious,

lurid my ambitious, thrust back into my

groggily pensive mood.

what to do to have your glance once more?

_____________________