"To those whom are concerning"
(Or all after an incident happened few years ago:
of monsters guised as friends, and rose amongst weeds)
I had kept in mind those magic moments
As if giving music that soothes my soul
When you first appeared before my eyes
An apparition from the works I scrawl
Yes, despite the torturous times
Followed by desperate vanities
Your presence, and your tendered voice
Songs made me sleep and dreams follow
Yet as monsters came over, lies the months of tempest
Dreams becoming delusions, illusions bringing me to ruins
Facing thine loneliness and dismays
Insults, threats and near beatings
This writer may not be Pushkin, but
Despite being thin, does not mean not to resist?
No! You are there on those days
Despite being beaten, still afford to give smile
Laughter trying to keep matters near none
But then you felt the worriness same as the others
Near foes allegedly becoming friends
Seeing a person as if calling for mercy
But no! This person, nevermind the blood and pain
For in a fight lies the two expected
Yet afford to give humor
As if nothing happened
You came and then asked
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing." I said, "He started it, why I can't fight?"
This person may be wounded
Yet the other as if having his pride near beaten
You even gave a cube of ice
"Here, this would soothe your wound"
Thus this person apply
Blood had stopped its flows
And with the sweet voices
Gives comfort for an hardened soul
This reminds me of a song of the mountain tribes
That their songs heals wounds and if thirst has to drink dew
The pain gave way to renewed vigour, hidden behind the young faced lad
That be unleashed as harms began
But not now my lad, but heed this word:
Your friends are not your friends
Foes, monsters hidden underneath sugarcoated words and human-like faces
Yet they treated a person like mess
Be end in as burning ashes
And since the wounds been healed but not its remains
With its marks of the wounded is the mark that cannot fade
Even the mind is marked that those foes be still foes
Baggages ready to be thrown the way they done on mine
Gates of hell has been raised, the gates of Nifelheim being opened
The calls of their punishments awaits them
From their homes, to the bars, to the souls felt threatened.
If not themselves await for the final battle
With the clarion being blown as its signal
The hordes with their prides
In sheer strength till exhausted
And end drowned by their so-called 'desires'
In hot flames or in water cold
But today, as my soul has awakened
And that you came this time anew
The delusion seemed to be not true
Yet with the songs that brought heal
Perhaps the love that is meant to cherish means you
Diliman, Sept. 28