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 apple that fell on Newton's head never left.
It stayed there
And began to grow trees,
That shook in the wind whenever he walked,
And dropped more apples on his head.
Then his head hurt so much
That he tried to uproot the tree.
The roots held on
And the leaves and apples feel onto paper
As gravity,
Due to gravity.
The roots held on
And grew mangoes this time.
He died trying to get rid of that.
Thank god he did.
We might have to study that gravity smells like mangoes otherwise.
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