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You see them mad,
They are always
murmuring;
talking to a ghost,
unseen,
with voiceless voices,
unheard
with much
in serious seriousness-
they move like
heaven, so far,
is their target to reach
and they left so late.
In your mind,
you see them mad,
But they are not
really mad.
Those in the shoes,
know
how heavy they are
to their legs
You beside may see it
lighter, seeing em moving
So fast like they’re not pitying the sand
unknowing the heaviness on it.
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