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Today, I mapped out the tears of crying.
I tried to explain how the storms of tears inside me exhaust the efforts I’ve been growing, to that absent shadow.

The shouts from around me aren’t familiar.
For things whose release date I don’t even know, I’ve just decided to sign my name on the diary of destruction.
It’s because my quota is full now, of the blind knots inside me that hold on to the past.

You understand the meaning of life when you see your reflection in front of you.
I looked at my album just at that moment; instead of a verb, I left a small sign.

How do we reach the emotional journal of the mental map, truly?

Life’s ridiculous chapters, the ones scattered in threads of fate...
For fate is crucial, and there is such a thing as destiny.

Understanding the story or correcting mistakes is not something for me.
Again, the scorpion’s poison struck with its slow pace.

Don’t be angry at a time with no quality, or be angry.
For some, time is a prayer, for others, a slow death.

If we reach the false reflections of my happiness, then I’ll say, I left a small sign there.

For the mental map I’ve drawn, for an emotional and empty life.

Emirhan Kaçan
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