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 veteran without a leg sits on a chair
Smoking,
Boasting,
As if he is still a soldier,
As if he can still do things he did back then.
A veteran without a leg sits on a chair,
Talking of lazy youth,
And the cold,
And how someone lost their head.
Everyone looks at him with respect.
Everyone is proud to have him as their guest.
But I look at him and go;
“Poor thing.”
Giving his body so much
That he has lost his soul.
Giving out his soul so much
That he has lost humanity;
Able to speak of sinking ships
And rotting corpses,
Talking able losing friends
Without a single tear,
Without a glow in the eye,
Without emotions.
So I look at him and go;
“Poor thing.
He has lost himself.”
Comments
Post a Comment