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…
The lion has lost
A claw,
Half of his mane,
Much blood,
His pride.
And yet you see him roar
From the edge of the Savannah
With the tyranny of an earthquake.
The crocodiles submerge
And flamingos take off in the thousands
On hearing his song;
Like electronic music,
Enjoyable yet repulsive,
Lacking yet full.
The lion has lost
A claw,
Half of his mane,
Much blood,
His pride.
Yet one will think thrice before looking into those eyes
That see through you
To your skeleton
And soul.
The eyes that see through you
Like a morning curtain,
A leaf,
A young deer being pounced upon
And not heard from again.
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