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Uniqueness
To the Double-Sided Uncertainty We Climb
Will every word I pour from within me
Be accepted as a homework assignment
By the fate that compels effort?
My hands, never missing from the sky,
The God whose existence remains in me
Whenever I hear something nonsensical,
My bandaged wounds are hollow pains
Melting over what I know,
In a double-sided dispute of debts and credits
What drives me mad, this thing called life,
Why does it feel like stale tea past its time,
Am I the one growing cold, or
Is the one who passed their time truly me?
These double-sided concepts always talked about,
While we wait for the hands we seek to reach,
It feels like regaining opposition
Is as hard as hearing the mistakes
Not from an ant’s mouth, but from the August
That is sung about for generations
Now if I ask,
The meaning of the things I’ve won,
Nothing much will come of it
Outside the name of opposition,
If I’ve lost what remains of me,
Am I still to be considered a sinner?
I don’t know
I’m tired of being the only fish among the fanus
I’m tired
Of seeing the one who offers the bait as God
Even though I never miss my hands
This gloom is suffocating me
Not fanus
Emirhan Kaçan
Copyright ©
Emirhan Kacan
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