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…
You lock your heart up
And turn its doors into walls;
Walls that strangle it
With every pulse it gives...
Constricting it into a box,
With its many tiny vessels
Rupturing
Until it flows down and down...
Until the chest fills up;
The heart floating on its own blood...
Now dry and crumbled like a raisin.
The heart floats on its own blood
But is kept in place by its large vessels.
But it continues to float...
And the veins that keep it down break,
Like a weak prisoner who has broken his chains
After years of effort.
The heart breaks free
And keeps going up...
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