the pigeons here, they aren’t afraid
of the feet that walk past them
on this grey street,
they are aware of our stories
the places we go and the faces we meet
they are aware of the soggy tissues
that fall above, from the balconies
they are aware of the life and stories
that live in those used tissues - they examine it,
a tissue for a moment in the past,
they think, I believe, they know and hear the emotions in those tissues that dry and travel around in these streets,
they know the secrets and seen faces, that even our close ones, could not
and so
I don’t mind the falling objects
I don’t mind the speeding cars
I don’t mind the distant face
that caused these distant scars
these pigeons, they see us from afar
they know my heart, they know your heart
-Kaya
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 5:15 AM UTC
the pigeons here, they aren’t afraid
of the feet that walk past them
on this grey street,
they are aware of our stories
the places we go and the faces we meet
they are aware of the soggy tissues
that fall above, from the balconies
they are aware of the life and stories
that live in those used tissues - they examine it,
a tissue for a moment in the past,
they think, I believe, they know and hear the emotions in those tissues that dry and travel around in these streets,
they know the secrets and seen faces, that even our close ones, could not
and so
I don’t mind the falling objects
I don’t mind the speeding cars
I don’t mind the distant face
that caused these distant scars
these pigeons, they see us from afar
they know my heart, they know your heart
-Kaya