Thu, 02/22/2024 - 09:54 -- Ameli


It is so cruel how the world keeps on turning.

The sun dares to make its way out from the clouds.

The birds mock, the kids play.

The flowers bloom, the wind blows.

How is it not all weeping?

Doesn't the earth know what it's lost?

Can't the oceans feel something missing?


Why hasn't the sky crumbled?

How have the trees remained standing?


The clock ticks unrelentingly taunting

with its seconds, minutes, hours, days just passing.


And for what?

For what?


Everything looks the same.

Everything feels the same.

But everything - every single thing - is changed.

This poem is about: 
My family


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