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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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Staying in my shell

 The wind tickles my neck

And the sun beams in.

But I cry “what the heck.”

And choose to sleep in.


The birds play morning quartet

But what a useless act it is.

They could instead lift this blanket

Or the entire day I'll miss.


When did it grow so heavy?

Why is it roaring in fire?

Yet why won't it burn away

As I desire?


These bottles of beer

They disturb me.

Yet I desire one more near

That I want to empty.


This open window and morning air

They suffocate me.

They remind a world that isn't fair

For people who true be.


It is a world of optimists.

I am one of them.

People who hammer on Smiling masks.

Those nails hurt, but no one will know

Except, everyone you ask.


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