And then there are people who wake up at 03:00 a.m.
They wander and wander,
In the nights stripped of moonlight,
Trying to encounter their ghost,
Wearing rags
Stiches and sewed clothes from the past,
Holding an old cup,
With reddish brown rust slowly developing,
Trying to stop it.
And then at 06:03 a.m. they sleep again,
Thinking why people are afraid to engage,
Why flowers are not in the garden but scattered around the grey footpath?
Why butterflies and honeybees started to stop visiting them, didn’t ask for help.
But at last all of them died,
No nectar could have been produced with the poisonous anger,
Nor they pollinated to save others,
Why isn’t it easy to be on good terms?
Maybe if they had just slept.
They could have worked efficiently,
The blue and yellow soft toys would have regained their position,
The nostalgic smell of hated milk would fill them with zeal,
Soft couches where they had the best sleep,
Would have never been sold,
If they had tried to remain,
In the colorful yards, picking fruits,
And not selling them.
Maybe if we all had just tried a little more,
Reached out, cleared ourselves,
And left the ego,
It would have been alot better.