My words, my friend,
As its creator that made me comprehend
Till dwindling droplets went by,
They convinced me that I should aim thrice.

The ink is my best friend,
Who always reminds me that someone comprehends,
That someone is there, expressing their thoughts to this shattered perspective,
Even though it was me who fully constructed it.

The inscription is my only friend,
That unconditionally made me comprehend
To believe and not just only to saunter,
Who even took me away from that slumber.

The texts are my best friends— my fellow ones,
Despite all of the wonted solitude—
The words that I formed hereby bestow me warmth.