I want to leave you in the wind,
I hate your guts.
No matter how much Xin hates you,
Kiki, the child is coming for you.
A cup of roofies will make you drunk,
Go to the guillotine
Sadness again and again,
I will scold you for generations.
Tibetan poems pay attention to the beginning of sentences and rhyme at the end. The meaning is profound and catchy.
This poem is made by racking my brains, not by software.
If you have any questions, please ask.
If satisfied, hope to adopt!