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…
People look at you
Like they're taking a photograph.
And like any photograph,
It captures you
Cross-eyed,
With your face flipped.
Like all photographs,
There will be a red glow in your eyes.
But these things aren’t you.
What is You
Is never understood by these people.
What is you
Cannot be captured.
Only you know that you’re eyes have lost all spark.
They are windows to the soul,
And the soul has no more embers to burn.
People look at you
Like they're taking a photograph.
And like any photograph
They thing they've captured you.
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