I feel the corruption, the mourn, the pain in my chest
and i feel 'em as if i made those happen with my own hands. I spin around and around and i fall And the wine in my glass turns into a shade of regret and it changes it all. I write everything down and i teach them how to fly. I throw them into the air only to catch even more. I make a game out of this, make them all collapse and miss, make them all realize and dismiss, lure them into the darkness in my eyes, so the darkness can help to advertise; the suffocating, aching hands of time, and its heaviness on my shoulders. Till my shoulders no longer to do job. Then my heart starts to stop. And my eyes will make everything turn into a melting lollipop, Just to be able to erase them and my madness will be swabed. I'll not show a modicum of joy, just watch and not be able to confine to the highers and results will destroy, the beginnings, the evergreen endings, the hopes standing there to employ. I only want to hinder the approaches, the ones getting real close, only accept the compliments to my innuendos. Stars, the moon, the entire universe and its secrets, silent languages that humanity no longer uses, old books with dust all over them and pressed flowers, and all the other tiny things that are falling out of fashion, just because 'we' always are busy to show compassion. Too tied up with all this and that, to glance at the gloam, throughout this long, absurd drive to home. Melis Erdoğan
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Melis Erdoğan
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February 2024
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