Changes
The world didn’t end but it stopped
I stopped moving around
I love the chirping of birds, moving of wind and ocean, the sky, everything except me
Is it raining or I’m feeling heavy
The world didn’t remain the same
Probably we have to make it again
For all the time that I consume myself
The poetry isn’t enough to live; the will to live
The leaves weren’t greener, the sun didn’t rise, I’m not breathing
The question who love you when you’re a misery
who loves the poem and the poet when it’s freezing inside and
the poetry itself dying
