When the new year sun shines on the grass,
it’s a next number in the common era,
It is a continuation of yesterday.
The biological aging process continues,
Deaths increases,
Deceased don’t wake up from the coffin,
And sit in the weary stone bench
And contemplate is time linear in the earth?
On a sunny afternoon,
In the middle of a traffic jam,
Tens of bots, and automatons,
send you the birthday wishes.
Those senders don’t mean anything,
Like how you don’t mean anything to anyone.
The raindrops falls from clouds,
replaces the noise with thudding sound,
cools down the earth, and
leaves an empty feeling inside.
Even on a solo date,
it’s a sugarless coffee in the cafe,
the jukebox still can’t hit the feeling,
And it’s still a gloomy day inside.
Does it matter what day of the week it is?
Does it matter what holiday it is?
Does it matter what season it is?
Does it matter which month it is?
Does it matter who calls you up?
There is one thought always, how can I repress this feeling?
Overusing the reason,
picking up tasks to keep the mind occupied,
Like a dog trying to bite its own tail.
Where can I find the peace?
When you fight against your own feeling,
solitude and darkness are the allies.
The dreams don’t spare you,
The specter haunts every day.
How long can I shove the feelings?
Even when I bury it in the deepest ocean,
the waves carry it back to the shore,
Why don’t tears evaporate,
and leave me empty?
The words paint an image in mind,
to create an experience.
A long forgotten word’s meaning disappears
from memory,
but a long-neglected feeling never leaves the body.
It’s been long, I lost track of the clock,
No, where I can see the land,
Does inter-continental migratory birds,
feel the pain in the wings?
How long is the war?
All shots are without shedding blood,
but not without scars and wounds,
and who waged it on me?
Is there a bunker to hide?
When I fall on the battleground
will I be called martyr?
Is there anyone who will identify the corpse?