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 see a ladybug on the petal,
Moving like a red old Volkswagen
On a bumpy road,
Over twigs and fallen leaves
Which jump onto the sides…
Not out of respect
Like soldiers on either sides,
Bowing to the king…
But to avoid being grinded under those wheels;
Wheels without their rubber hoodies,
Scratching the skin of the road
To kill it
Bit by bit…
The car itself is dead;
A ghost,
Riding around with no driver,
But only a radio in the back seat
That plays the happy birthday song
Everyday…
I saw a ladybug on a petal,
Moving like an old Volkswagen
Which moves on its own
Only after death…
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