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…
Life is a crab walking sideways, A cat peeping through a blanket, An old man on the street with holes in his shoe, Strumming away at the guitar, Singing In a voice as raw as life itself; As real as a shattering bottle, Piano blues, Or a burned palm… Life is an old man on the street with holes in his shoe, Lying on a park bench, Gesturing with his arms, With a bottle of beer, Talking to the stars lying around Like a bottle shattered during a bar fight, Glistening and sharp… Captivating Until you step on it.