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…
My brother's a flower,
Used at weddings,
Used at parties,
Used at funerals;
Fitting in everywhere,
But belonging nowhere.
He's the fire dancing with the wind,
The moving shadows,
The plastic bottle rolling on the sidewalk
With the wind;
Ignored,
Not placed at it's rightful place.
He hasn’t found himself.
He's the butterfly
Staying on a single flower,
Afraid of flying too far,
Afraid to explore the other flowers,
Fearing he'll not find a sweeter one
Than the one he sits on.
He hasn’t found himself.
And they called him lazy;
But I know he is not.
He is just afraid,
Scared of not being noticed.
He's just afraid
Of our parents,
Society,
Change.
He'll have to jump from flower to flower
To find the sweetest one.
And I hope
He'll find it one day.
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