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…
A man lies in a chair shot in the chest,
Neck fallen back,
Open mouth,
Grey eyes.
A man lies in a chair shot in the chest;
His eyes still alive,
Looking at a white wall with
Torn stickers,
A baseball glove,
The cracked photograph of a child with a fishing rod.
A man lies in a chair shot in the chest,
Really seeing these things
For the first time.
Yet not able to cry;
Not able to show he cares.
Sure.
He had all the time to do it.
But
Will one more chance hurt?
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