What have I told myself? To follow what I've heard; that is, to run to the South.

  Cradle yourself with love to learn and praise

  The shaken world has no capacity to push you up

  New works stream down the line like ants and drops

  Matters that concern you hold your vitals to happiness

  You must love oneself.

  Know peace within thyself.

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  Happiness and control is near. Fear not what others has to say. Bola, you will run. Away from the Eastern skies to the Southern sun.

  Kid still believing in magic like it's stellar; knows no wish comes without a steal. A child saddened by the downtrodden rain of words she's had to endure, thus never seeking comfort in her shell. And oh, who would have known? The trouble has run out of her home! To where safeness lies, out to hug her Darling, out to regain sanity, out to let herself lie. At least now, if she so ever desires, she won't hang but lay down the river and float— keeping her dreams high and holding faith to be saved.