She adores roses
Those are red and fire
He presents violets
These are blue and crude
To stitch-up a broken heart
Do they have a glue?
Roses are red
Jasmines are white
Gentle and subtle,
together with Jasmine heart,
into every night dream.
Roses are red
Sunflowers are golden
She is feeling a bit down
Will you play her cello?
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Jasmines are white,
Fatherly fragrant, love  
Just follow the clue

Are there human machine learning models that could quantify  Real-World Uncertainties?
Puzzles multiplier with high dimensional questions,
questions follows questions,
mountains of Bayesian Inference measures.
Whether it be out of curiosity, or anxiety?
wonder or concern; uncertainty or doubt…
we all have questions we want answered.
Aren’t we too afraid to ask those question—
‘The Good, the Bad, the Ugly and the Way Forward’
For fear of the answer,
We more often would prefer not to know
And anyway, who can we believe, in whom can we trust?
We need to trust that whilst the life of faith is beset by doubt,
When there is faith,
wouldn’t it be
examined by uncertainties.

Could you forward 4*4 clouds and
encode Base16 into heavenly lotus pond?
Would it all be ancient calculus to tell us a wise story?
If you stand at the crossroads -
A crank must come up...
Just cigarette smoke
And a quarter in his
pocket.
 
There were many stories,
How to waste yourself on trifles.
Let a kopeck worth a ruble
Or even thirty-three...
 
At the peak of this torture:
"So finally – to be or not to be?"
What life has given in abundance,
Can’t you sell it costly?
Any person has something,
And something is missing.
When we float to iCloud Hexadecimal coding pond
No brain — no gain.
No more Hexadecimal fun encoding base track.
Aren’t we a true universe hexadecimal poet...

Dress her as an eagles— in wings...
Dress her as a snake — in skin...
Only if the door will squeak in silence
And she run off to carry her burden...
 
But when she choke with the sky
And when she sees enough of the abyss,
Lure her with rye bread...
Speak with her always truthfully...
 
Don’t look into her eyes ‪at midnight‬.
Don’t show her the full moon.
She knows, your hand always helps her...
Don’t smooth the waves of her hair...
 
Whatever you whisper to her, she knows.
She tell you everything — silently...
When her grief grabs her tightly
Forgive her that wolfish look...
 
Never fear and not to swear at the witches...
And never kiss her shoulders in vain...
She has one destiny —
to fly over the wind...
And she has nothing to pay you back for.

Would the boundary of day and night
be determined by the worlds or the words?
Could spin gifts us fascinating sunrises,
and a starlit nightsky filled with great glory?
Seen and unseen,
fantasy and reality all kept from interfering with one another by complex mechanisms and borders, orderly structured with a boundary to another's heart.
However it is crossed by emotions.
And emotions dynamics,
which can be subtle, sour, pure,paranoid  
or spicily excruciating.
Would phantoms of the past convey your memories?
The boundary of Infinite problems setting a long gone corrupt judgement;
Should we know the meaning of eternity where you were.
And if you are no longer there,
such the serenity of silence rules over this deserted border.
The border of infinite settings,
selections of consciousness or unconsciousness worlds.

A girl in the corner,
carries monsters in her handbag
Dark eyes are her soul window
Shrouded with feathers.
She breathes gently but with strength,
You'd barely notice .
She was watching you...
Don't play and no react
Sometimes she smiles.
Maybe you see the shines in her eyes.
The flash of craziness
That you've been enlightened about.
She moves with natural
As she glides on shattered floors.
Likewise,  the hearts she left in the dust.
She halts.
And looks you in the eye.
And your breath catches her discrete thought