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…
He’s a lionfish in the tiny aquarium,
Bumping up against the glass
Confused.
He’s a lionfish in the tiny aquarium
Turning left,
Turning right,
Spinning around but going nowhere.
The cat scratches the glass
And the anemones blink at his shame.
The cat scratches the glass,
Blurring the little view of the world he had...
Blinding him,
Making him look at himself;
Making him look at his own image
Misshapen by those silver lines.
He is fed regularly,
And he eats
And grows regularly
Until his scales slither on the inward glass
Like people crammed into a glass room,
Piled up in all possible positions;
A hundred blinking eyes
And a hundred open mouths
Breathing out the little air that remains...
Until the tank bursts...
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