Whirlpool Of Sorrow Poem by Farshid Rezaee

Pulls the trigger…
Bang…Bang…Bang…
Blood and nothing else…
Screams, shouts, horns
Rain, wet, soaked

Ringing bell,
Cheerful faces full of hope
Colorful clothes, bags, umbrellas
A worried look, anxious to get home

A cloaked figure
With malicious gaze
At the passersby
Crawls into darkness

A ringing sound…
No movement, no answers…
Answer machine mourns
Over the sad message

A shaken figure,
With torn clothes
Holding the last drops of money
In her clumsy hands
Falls into a drunk pit
Calls out for her son

Knocks on the door…
No movement, no answers…
A piece of paper
Words shrouded in sorrow
Waiting to be read…

Cloaked figure reaching into his pockets
For the little pink and blue boxes
Tears the ribbon…
“Oh … a silver ring”
“Oh… a teddy bear”
The bear soon finds itself
Lying on a pile of trash
The ring glowing in a shop window

The worried face reaching the doorstep
Afraid to knock
To enter
To call his mother…
A note awaits him
To take him deeper into
Whirlpool of disillusionment

The shaken figure has managed to get up
Fumbles in the darkness of water
For her dropped coins

The cloaked figure is at home now
Stretching its evil feet on the sofa
In his cozy house there is fire
Dancing flames of warmth
Ensuring him of his happiness

The worried face is now drenched
Not with the rain but watery lavas
Of his volcanic eyes

The shaken figure is on her way
To her home
Where her son may be waiting
For bread and butter
Their royal food!

The worried face hears
Knocks on the door
Rushes to see his mom
“How should I tell her? ”

The shaken figure comes home
Only to see her son with
A mourning look
No need to ask
No need to say
Sorrow has devoured
The only possession left to cherish
Family…