Planned Chaotic Life

Oyoyoy, mom’s forcing me to learn English,

and I already see the suitcases,

and in my head it’s whistling: what should I take?

I dreamt of rockets, big brother playing volleyball,

and I was hiding the little one,

feeding him,

because survival is my second name.

Then mom says: “Dad brought the suitcases, let’s go!”

And I’m like: “Wait, stop, I haven’t sorted my tech yet!”

Green phones, consoles, tablets —

I’m like a little hacker gathering my arsenal.

And then internet attacks,

dad’s fans put on a circus:

“Traumatologist! Bullying! Ukrainian flag!”

And I just laugh and say: “Guys, not here!”

Moldova… oh, Moldova, you’re my haven,

I thought I’d settle here.

But surprise — dad’s planning a move,

and mom with English, and it’s hee-hee-hee chaos!

So what’s left?

Laughter, suitcases, a green phone,

piercings, tattoos,

and a tiny carry-on —

because even chaos can be packed neatly.

Chaos is planned,

but I’m already laughing,

because inside, I’m the commander of my own chaos.