By: Dağhan İş
We’re most alone while in a crowd.
We’re bloated the most when there isn’t room for even a toothpick on a table.
Our oldest comes into being after oppressing our youngest. And when our youngest is ready to give up a limb, they grow!
The safest place are those arms.
Insecurity is the name given to love even when love is still present.
The one with the most patience will pull teeth, whereas the least patient will drum fingers on a table.
While our most faithful will shy from gazing into a mirror, the one yelling “We don’t exist” will catch them in the air.
Our blind see. The seeing don’t even look.
While our masters free our binds, those killed for freedom will spit on the graves of those who died for freedom.
While the bravest don their armor, our most cowardly will hide behind a lanky tree.
We run to those who scream the loudest. Perhaps it’s the silent ones who are suffering more, we cannot know.
We hear best in pure silence. The deafest is the one who talks the most.
Those content with less always have a store under the pillow. The one who puts palms into another palm will bleed.
Widths to heights, heights to widths…
The ones with sight are blind, and while our blind are laughing, I get very bored…