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 bought color pencils
And drew the sunset like a real artist;
I can hear my bird’s chirp,
And feel my mountains go warm on one side
As little rays grip the rocks
Like climbers who have lost their footing,
Holding on for dear life...
Eventually letting go and falling
Until the rocks go cold
And the grass sleeps in the cool purple wind…
I bought color pencils
And drew the sunset like a real artist,
Immersing myself in it.
Yet, I’m scared.
What if they steal it?
This masterpiece,
This diamond in a coal mine,
This knockout,
This victory…
I’m scared.
What if they steal it?
So I rush to it
And find it in the hands of a child
Resembling me.
I find it in the hands of a child
With a black crayon...
Drawing black lines over my masterpiece.
I rush to grab it.
“Stay back!” he cries.
“I drew wires so those who try to take it
Get electrocuted.”
I laugh.
I thought I was smarter now…
How I’m wrong!
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