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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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Life is chains

 Life is chains

And not tickling feathers.

But it cannot deflate me.

The basket can be made of thread.

The basket can be made of chains.

But the ball will always fall through.

And it will come down

To go in

Again

And again

And again.

Life is chains

But it doesn’t tie me down even a bit.

The chains don’t matter

As long as the basket has a hollow

The ball can fill for a little time.

And the ball goes in

Again

And again

And again.


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