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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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Poor woman unable to get out of bed

 I look at the poor woman

Unable to get out of bed,

Surrounded by tubes,

Cylinders

And beeping machines with cool graphs.

I look at the poor woman

Unable to get out of bed

And think why she should live.

Her life hangs on the machines,

The tubes,

The people wearing white;

A fuel-less car on a bumpy road

Trying to reach the gas station on a bottle of coke,

An ice sculpture kept up by the cold,

A faint light.

I look at the poor woman

Unable to get out of bed

And laugh at my crappy self,

Unable to get out of bed

For no reason at all.

I look at the poor woman

And see a light in her eyes

That I am afraid to keep looking at.


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