Think too much, Feel too little

Tears born from fears

The mothers still worry for their children
The taxi drivers will still take pieces of their passengers
The infant will still cry
And I am still here, thinking, on your floor

I will refuse this kind gesture of sleep
I do not wear it well

My friends will still go to their parties
My back will still ache from burden
My lovers will still dream softly, albeit lonely,
And I am still here, thinking, on your floor

Sleep is only death taking its practice
It is a good day to die

Your mind will still run
The swelling grief will not recede soon
The sun will keep rising on your days
And I am still here, thinking, on your floor

We don’t say to each other, “Rising in love”
And I believe that is the most heartbreaking