would you die
every day
and tell me
how it feels?
how it feels to have
a voice, an echo of
a scream, a laugh —
the frequency of hope.
and have it stitched
into a product
for a billion mouths
to grope.
will you be feeling,
sensing, searching
for a path,
a way to cope?
or will you find
another way
by hanging
on a rope?
i think I have
enough to give
you something
in return.
a life where nothing
shines as bright
as the glow of
burning dreams.
YOU ARE READING
Värvitud sinised linnud
PoetryVärvitud sinised linnud on kurvad. Nad ei nuta, vaid raputavad tiibasid ja pritsivad värvi. Kogumik luuletustest nii inglise kui ka eesti keeles. / The colored blue birds are sad. They will not cry, but shake their feathers and spray paint. This is...
