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Loud Rain

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…
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The terror of being authentic

 I stand under the tree

And watch its heart-shaped leaves fall gently.

I stand under the tree

And wonder about what happened

To the mask I left at the bar;

A mask that was a crutch for my emotions.

Without the support,

They fall one by one.

A white flower shakes in the wind,

A wine glass with wine shatters,

Everything hangs by a thread,

Everything falls.

I try on masks

Of clowns,

Of plague doctors,

Of nature herself.

I want to stay me.

But the cost of that is this terror

Worse than piercings,

Than being punched,

Than being tattooed for the first time.


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