Ring My Bell
By Jo-Ryan Salazar

Poem 9: Nyamo == Cold Equation

I don't know. I don't know.
I just don't know.

Everything turns pitch black
When it comes down to knowing
The trendiest solutions
To the most conservative problems
In mathematics.

It is a hassle.

Back in the days,
I would have no problems
Knowing arithmetic from algebra,
Knowing the solution to
8675309 minus
9035768. But then,

When it comes to knowing
ab2-cd, oh, you
could not
imagine.

I am not lying.
If I was a liar, I would be on fire.

The only thing I'm good
At exercising at
Is my body.
That is the only equation
That I know I can solve,
And that I can survive of.

But if you hand me
That textbood,
That friggin textbook
Full of problems
Regarding trigonometry, calculus, differential
Equations, I shudder.
I stumble,
I fall,
I die and turn snow white
Just thinking about it.

I can try to run away from it,
But I just can't. I just can't.
I just can't.

My best friend and soul mate
Preaches Shakespeare,
Romeo and Juliet,
And the only thing I know
Is that they knew each other.
They knew that equation.
They could solve it.

I couldn't solve it.
Because, I didn't know
How to approach it. It hurt
Just to try to solve it.

What if it all falls down
Like two towers
Burned down into rubble by
Exploited birds of metal?

What if I become tortured
By the one I would love,
And love in return?

This is just as hard as mathematics,
Maybe even harder.

Just solving one equation of life
Is enough for me.
Maybe I'm good enough for two?

End Poem 9