I hear the sound of the violin
long before it begins...

Moments,
soaked and swollen...

I am not a racist
if I wish to hold on to my identity...

You can drop bombs on my town,
shoot little boys in the head and kneecaps...

The lashes you saw marked on my body
are but half the story...

On and on, forever—
perfection lost...

If you truly love her,
before sinking into the murky eddy...

The mood is real.
The sceneries...

In our love,
the universe continues...

I genuinely asked:
if separation is good...

You don't even know
why you need one if you lack...

Do I reminisce,
or is this only one of...