Thinking of the places
Where we could’ve died…
Hand in hand, stand by
Right in the bright side
Even if these words were enough shrill,
Enough potent…
Yet again there wouldn’t be a cry from me
I would be all silent
Instead, I would let myself-inside,
To be melt drop by drop
Until a new word is born in me
And by that, my notebook of poetry
Would be burnt up
Nothing will be arisen from the ashes
Rest assured I’ll be done with it
Rest assured those lost lyrics will be sung
By anonymous singers
In an isolated Cabaret,
Where ghosts do not dare to be the audience
But customers….
Thinking of the places
Where we could’ve died
Hand in hand, agile
Right in the dark side
Oh! Death! We don’t live too far…
Could you give us a ride?
