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 headless body
With broken limbs
Crawls on the bloody floor,
Not knowing
That it is searching for its own head.
But there's no use of knowing.
There is a mountain of heads on which the body crawls
Along with the other bodies.
Some find their heads,
Some find other’s heads and make it their own.
Some find their heads
And hide the heads of those they know
So that they won’t find it.
It's dark in here.
Even the sighted fail to find their way.
It's dark here
For the dreamers,
Clear headed,
And the headless.
It's dark in here.
Will we find our way?
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