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…
Why do we lock our souls
And say the world is against us?
Why do we prick our hearts
And demand the world to heal it?
We have obeyed society
Long enough.
We have done ‘what's right'
Long enough.
We should be what we are.
They try to paint coins gold
And increase their value,
They try to shoot blindfolded,
And end up shooting an innocent bird,
Trembling as the spirit leaves it.
They have ‘given' us enough;
Now we should give back.
They have shot us enough;
Now we shouldn’t come down to the trees.
The light doesn’t find us,
The darkness doesn’t know us,
And the ocean doesn’t remember us
Even if we drown in it.
“Then why live?” They ask.
And the question pricks our heart.
We live for the world,
And have forgotten to live for ourselves.
We live for the world,
And stick to groups and social norms
And complain about the broken cup that never fills up.
It is painful
That we live for the world too much.
It is painful
That we live for
Our nation, presidents, our politicians, our parents, our gods
Too much.
We have forgotten to live for ourselves.
But we haven’t forgotten to complain.
Comments
Post a Comment