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…
I bow down
And they place candles on my back.
I feel the dripping wax
Biting me like spiders,
Then melting into my skin
Like a massive iron ball
Sinking into tar,
Leaving a cluster of hot bubbles
Left alone to pop;
An ember,
A Flash,
A last word spoken in a language invented on the spot...
I bow down
And they place candles on my back.
And I cry in pain
With the innocence of a baby
Left alone in the woods,
Forced to look at bats and the glaring moon.
I cry
Like an old man behind a crumbled wall,
Crouching and praying for dear life.
I cry
And they don’t hear it...
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