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…
Red shirt,
Red pants,
Pink goggles;
Everything is wrong with her
And it makes her perfect.
Schizophrenia,
Madness,
Attempts of suicide;
Everything is wrong with her,
Yet she's beautiful.
Her madness speaks wisdom
And her eyes evoke the emptiness of pure humanity.
Pink flowers beneath dark trees,
Bubbles,
Rolling dice.
The men shout
And women cry
At her.
But her madness sets her free
From the greater madness we all go through.
Her madness sets her free
From the knives,
The cigars,
The ghosts that haunt us all.
Her madness sets her free
From madness itself.
She's lucky
And we're too jealous to see it.
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