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 bullet hits the bottom of the glass,
And the blood rises through the water
Like a slow vortex.
Panes shatter and chains hang loose.
A pocket watch gets buried in the sand.
We get trapped in colourful bubbles
That limit moment,
We get scared by mere statues.
A bullet hits the bottom of the glass,
And the blood rises through the water.
The water has become blood,
And spiders splash around in it,
Fighting for space.
The spectacles should be wiped,
The barbed wire should bend and break,
And skulls should have their mouths open.
Blood converts what it falls on into blood.
It makes things forget
That they ever existed.
It does the same to people.
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