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…
I am surrounded by paper walls I refuse to break.
And I don’t know why.
I am surrounded by paper walls
With holes in them
Through which they spy on me
Every time I write poetry.
They think I have some secret;
Some potion I drink
To write three poems a day.
Sometimes,
I think of what might be going through their head
And laugh
Like a madman with a chainsaw.
I laugh
And they think I've lost my mind.
They're not wrong.
But they got the timing all wrong.
I didn’t lose my mind recently.
I lost it
The day I started to write poetry.
Comments
Post a Comment