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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…

Suffering

 Feeling sleepy.

Yet not sleeping.

Going upstairs,

Pretending I want to read

Something.

Opening a novel,

A fat one.

But not reading.

Not reading.

Staring

Keeping a phone between the pages

At the middle of the book,

So they'll think

I'd read so much.

What a nerd.

Reading

Dante,

Shakespeare,

Freud,

With a phone inside,

At midnight,

After everyone has slept.

Still I feel someone's watching;

Someone

Climbing up the steps

Someone

Watching through the keyhole,

Watching through the gap under the door.

Someone

Calling my name.

They are only

The sounds of the night,

Mildly warm,

With crying cicadas,

Howling dogs.

But I hear my name

In the cicada's cry,

In the dog's howl.

Having no inner peace.

Yet I repeat this

Every night

Mercilessly.




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