Complaint to a rose branch

 

Complaint to a rose branch; 

I skin breaths into myself from the tip of my fate knife, 

I see dead cats on the side of the road every day from windows that are speeding by, 

Dreams are the unflying kites of beautiful skies with their strings in our hands, 

Promises do not keep despite the rains of life water where they were planted anymore. Complaint to a rose branch; 

I miss you whenever I run barefoot with my children on wet grass... 

Ants in the sea of ​​screams that run under my feet. 

A grape vine has reached out from the balcony, its arms have fallen over us.

On the coffee table, an unfinished war chessboard, 

Cities that have just been made peaceful, still burning, in my mind. 

Wounded people, tired and exhausted from crying, walking slowly on the street, 

Their faces are dry, hundreds of tear paths and covered in blood, 

If only brave journalists would publish what they have suffered, 

A golden-haired child who accidentally sees this on the TV at home will think zombies are walking. 

A complaint to a rose branch; 

I miss my mother's belly, my love, 

And God's hand that caresses my wet, bloody hair... 

13.44 I plant wishes at the bottom of the rose, my love. 

I draw heavens behind my eyes, stealing all their colors from the soil...