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…
Kids not allowed to draw on walls,
Women not allowed to express,
Men not allowed to love.
Because
The walls become dirty,
Expressions becomes awkward,
And love may end in hate.
We build walls around ourselves
And cry when no one can see us.
We build walls around ourselves
And forget to put windows for the light to fall in.
We build walls
For art,
For expression,
For love,
And complain these things are crap;
That they go nowhere, lead nowhere.
The child will not paint Picasso,
The woman does not know how to express,
The man does not know how to love
Fully.
But let the child draw meaningless lines,
And let the women express,
Let men love;
And they'll learn to
Draw well,
Express accurately,
Love fully.
All they need is our patience.
Second chances are never enough.
They should be given chances
Until they
Can draw well,
Express accurately,
Love fully.
They should be given chances
Until they break the walls
They built around themselves.
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