Last 24 Hours of Weirdness

Cydrick S. Reforma

BSP 1-A

Last 24 Hours of Weirdness

A midst a fortress of enigma where the sun is forbidden to enter, men of lunacy stand barefooted.

We don’t want to close our eyes. We don’t want to fall asleep because we’re going to miss everything and we don’t want to miss a thing. We don’t want to see the sparks fly then eat us alive. Both of us are once a trouble when we walk in.  We are in misery. But out all of these things, we love each other better now. Together, we chase the sun and chase the pavements. We don’t give up. We are bullet proof, nothing to lose because we rock like titanium. We’re living in a cold world but we set fire to the rain. We made them feel the heat. We dance, love, and dance again. We party rock like it’s already the end of the world. We scream and shout then we let it all out. Come on! What’s going on? We hear them calling. We go rolling in the deep, giving our heart a break.  It’s not the way we plan it. It’s how we make it happen. We never let this go but we can’t find the words to tell them that they are just a dream that we once knew. We never thought we will be right here for them. We see rainbow after the rain. We are wide awake now, waiting for the firework to let its color bursts. Then, we see the moonlight shining on Paris, moving like a jagger. We’re moving closer now and we don’t know what to do. Maybe these are the parts of us that they can never ever take away. No! Sigh. We’re out of our league once again. This make us feel sturdier. They can’t make us move because we’re under six degrees of separation. It’s time to go. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter. Goodbye.[pic 1]

It’s our last day, our last word, our last chapter. It’s the last drop of our blood, our ink. It’s the conclusion of our long way run. We’d like to go travel back in time. We’re going to borrow Mr. Peabody’s Way Back to do this and to go explore our previous world and dimension. We’re going to go to the first place where we met. The special place under the 84-year old acacia tree where we start to build our epic ship, our friendship, and where we start to spell our love. We’re going to squeeze out those sweet memories. Those that made us laugh and cry and those that made us look so weird and psychotic.

It’s our last day, our last word, our last chapter. We’d like to send the poem we made while chatting what to do if this is our last day to President PNoy. It says:

Pera Pera!

Lahat ng may pera’y makaliligtas

Sa mga nakatalang batas na dinaig pa ang bubong na binili sa junk shop sa dami ng butas

Sa limpak limpak na patak ng ‘yong pera sila’y mapapalakpak, mapapahagalpak.

Pati ang hampas ng maso sa tabla ay agarang papatak

Para sa ‘yo na bumubuga ng kabundok pera.

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