In cold sweat you will begin,
Your mistake is just a treasure;
A weak jump to olden skin
They won’t find the time to measure.
Our lines are filled with wax,
Our blood is made of paper;
Write a poem and relax,
You will grow to be a taper.

“Hate” is not a word for words,
You just turn your back - be silent;
If they’ll curse and cut with swords
Answer them but don’t be violent.
Let your voice to be as loud
In your writings, like a spin,
Read this message and be proud:
In cold sweat you will begin.

I thought poorly that along
My goal shall not stay in error,
But to cry in rain was wrong
As the crying is my terror.
Humble water falls from high
Heart sores like there was no pleasure
In this world. Don’t hide the sigh -
Your mistake is just a treasure.

Their distress is screaming louder
Than a thunder in his caught;
Madness shall remain in powder
Whether if you like or not.
Blazing wings that grow in spell
Will confine your words of sin
In a cage where they had fell
A weak jump to olden skin.

Shipless ocean is your thought
In their points of view. The weather
Will be lonely when your naught
Must remain and cut a feather.
Your night borrows candle lights
From a beam; the only leisure
Stays in front of fight in fights -
They won’t find the time to measure.

Skies are cloudy, but so clear
They arrived in peace and calm,
Like the ox who shed a tear
At his cart, without a palm.
Colourful are landscapes; sunny
Stories were untold in acts,
But no word is sweet as honey;
Our lines are filled with wax.

Trees are hunting shapeless ways
With their leaves and then the sorrow
Of one truth that never plays
Blows the wind like were an arrow.
Don’t you dare to brace your mind
With another mind. In vapour
Other words shall then remind:
Our blood is made of paper.

If you need an answer, quickly
Take a question from your soul,
But if they will treat you sickly
Try to stay under control.
Read as much as you can handle,
Follow your successful tracks;
At the light of one poor candle
Write a poem and relax.

Be aware of those who lying
Means a living style, and try
Not to cry, because the crying
Makes you unsecure and shy.
You’ve just tasted from my end
With your glancing eyes of caper;
Write those feelings, write them, and
You will grow to be a taper.

You will grow to be a taper,
Write a poem and relax;
Our blood is made of paper,
Our lines are filled with wax.
They won’t find the time to measure
A weak jump to olden skin;
Your mistake is just a treasure,
In cold sweat you will begin…