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…
Worm
Finding it’s way through a doormat,
A maze.
Cursing it all its life.
Because it was the only life
He had known.
He thought the mat was limiting his freedom.
But it was protecting him
From dogs,
From weather,
From human feet.
Trying to get out.
Getting out.
But it couldn’t crawl on the marble floor.
It had stayed in the mat.
No.
It had become the mat.
It could never become
Itself.
Because ‘itself'
Was not given a chance to exist.
The worm
Wanted freedom.
Someone stepped on it
And it became free
Forever.
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