This is for my dear friend Annie <3 taesticless7
It's just the translation.

Because while I hold
the pencil firmly,
my verses pierce
the bark.

Because while the graphites
lips on the sheet,
my blood, sweat and tears
they permeate white with black.

And when in my eyes
it reflect the stanzas,
I drown in my sighs.

In my lyrics and phrases
I have to record
that ever I was strong and kept standing.
With my head held high.

I must speak and scream
high each and every of my lyrics.

So that in that way,
when the sun rises
and the moon falls,
see my footprint
illuminated for its light.

And may my screams
be heard, that in the
corners of the world
resound my cracked voice.

That the past of love in my
manual be clear and strong
in all hearts.

And that the galaxy of
my letters be
observed by blessed
ocular seas.

The global sphere get
stained with that
thick scarlet liquid that
runs through my veins.

Let my voice not be lost
in the subconscious,
nor be ignored.

And that my little work to improve is recorded in
more than one paper.

I hope one day I come back
to rise the moon to give ideas
the lonely and the suicidal,
the one who keeps everything
and to the one who shouts everything.

Because in the ode
more than one cry is heard,
more than one aid.

And with each step,
the echo makes me suffer to my ears to the point of delirium.

And in my long clamps
of singular ends, I carry the notebook and the pen.

So when the stained glass, enlighten me with inspiration, with his estrus.

And stay on hold of that
is now my present and my next future.

I will treasure among my horny already dull the bitter and lonely waning moon.

His aphasias and the brawl dominant on his face,
plus the ethereal form to observe.

Until my verses flow on the leaves from the books and swimin the mental gaps of others.

And even though I sink in this little glass of water,my literature will come out.

My poems will continue
dancing the waltz next to the grim reaper, and I will remain who I was.

In your light, oh sad moon,
I identify you as my muse.

Owner of my cries, my pain and every scream.
Witness to my claims to life and my most dying songs.

Sorry for impaired harmony.

Proof that loneliness is not eternal and that always we have someone to align with and form our eclipse.

Causing my more bloody sorrows, but also of my more wonderful occurrences.

And in charge of assert my praise. Who will demonstrate that the time invested under your gaze was not in vain.

And up to here
my voice arrives,
my ink and my
thandizeni.

S I L K Y;