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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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To Perfectionists

 Art is perfect,

They say.

Life's a mess,

They say.


Art can be perfect

But only horrible art is so;

Life can be perfect

But only horrible lives are so.


People drink in cups with four handles.

It's a perfect cup;

You can pick it up from anywhere,

But it makes the drinking difficult


No one praises the Mona Lisa;

They praise the painter.

No one praises your perfect life;

They say it's because of god.


For people to speak about art more,

You should ruin it.

For people to speak about your life more,

You should ruin it.


You can improve it and not be perfect

But to truly make your legacy last,

You should ruin it.


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