Poetry, Believe Me
Poetry, believe me, will you do,
For one single time?
You were never a commodity,
Never a show-off or a pastime
I am breathing through you
Like that little tiny bird, wanting to fly
I need to breathe through you, poetry,
I need to live through you, before I die.
You are that letter of that boy who wrote to her mother
Before merging into the rally of a huge, huge crowd
Never came back, but reached safely her mother’s hands.
You are those souls through pains of life, through struggles and test
Longing for raindrops on a barren land, longing for an oasis to flourish the rest.
You are the love poetry, of angels, through love and death, in moments of despair
And I will buy those moments with my tiny hands, to make you free on your desired land.
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