I do not wish to live
but my mom's illness...

Like a little sparrow
lost in the rain...

He declaimed so loud
yet silence, was amplified...

Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...

Look how those branches
of trees are nestling within...

Just being a drop for you,
is enough...

There are no bite marks on his apple.
His toys are still in their boxes...

You are a star shining brilliantly
far away in sky...

The rain is gone.
The trains are gone...

An artist creates
only in the presence of light...

When I do not find your black eyes
everything founders...

Where everything is versified to be uttered
and sublime is not external and pretended...