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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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Killer water

 The brown bottle once had medicine,

But now it ‘s placed on the white cloth,

Filled with water,

With a dull flower on its mouth;

A flower which was once yellow,

A flower with a butterfly always on it,

As if it was a part of it;

A limb,

A bead of sweat.

The brown bottle once had medicine,

And now it has water to give life.

But what it does

Is make the dead flower rot away faster

After inhaling any fragrance the flower has.

What it does

Is to dampen petals and darken colours

Until everything is wet and black.


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