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 his bed
Sweating,
Yet not doing anything about it.
A man lies in his bed,
Unable to do anything else,
As if there’s a cinder block on his chest;
As if there is no reason for him to get up.
The cinder block is all he feels
And feeling it numbs him.
He is strong enough to lift it out of his chest.
But no.
What if another block falls on him?;
A bigger one.
So he doesn’t let go
Of the cinder block.
So he doesn’t allow
Freedom to exist,
And claims he is being suffocated
By forces he cannot control.
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