Tieka

Artist . Poetry . Performer

Umbrella

February 4th, 2012

-May I hold your umbrella?
*No, thank you. I’m fine.

On one street where happiness crosses inner pain, there aren’t shops enough for your tears to repress, except for the rain to let your eyes catch heavens’. ONLY IF you’re not opening your umbrella, by then only high pitched voices cover the facial expressions between heavy noises of strangers walking in and out of stores. The medium of┬ádisorder┬ásees but tries to ignore that drop of salt before asked: Where are you going?
Answering question and take further notice of anger and disbelief, what had the messenger achieved if the communication didn’t get through. Disturbed by this matter of disturbance, more words came to vomit and there was only some of it to absorb, letters of remains dripping, whilst my eyes was filling up with too much sudden information.

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