My Friend

My friend I know, I am only face to you.

And everything you search is in my face.

White, beauty-ugly, sorrow-sad and black.

But my friend my face is not prophetic soul

Sometime it will not delight you

Sometime it will puzzled your voice.

Sometime your eyes struggles to see colors behind the clouds.

Or sometime I cloths its nakedness

My friend, I am only voice to you

And everything you want to learn is in my voice

Thick, anger-surprise-happiness and thin.

But my friend my voice is not moonlight

It will not hover your soul every time.

Nor will it move you often

Often Strings of throat will get cut

And low will be pitching and I will be arti-music.