Millions of lights are on every night in the city in my heart

The most beautiful springs are hidden behind the harshest winters.

This word is written on the back cover of the magazine I just closed. part of my heart; “Sounds good, promising to say the least.” Although he says he says, this determination does not prevent the sarcastic smile that appears on my lips. And involuntarily the words are pouring out of my heart.

Even though I see a thousand springs, the stone will not grow in my heart.

This is how I am. Sometimes, without listening to my brain's command, words spill out in space and time as soon as they happen. They say it's from the nightingale's tongue. This is exactly the case.

What do I do.

I sleep less, I eat less, but I can't manage to talk less. I call it heartbreak. The gem is not hit and no dam can stand in front of it. It's called a flood. If it was controllable, there would be no flooding anyway.

I'm like a driver who got into the car the wrong way. Everything and everyone seems to be on me. And every time I try to jump over it, life gets stuck on my feet.

I have never fallen behind this life. If this statement is true, then what is this loneliness that is holding me like my blood?

This desolation, this solitude and this resentment.

Millions of lights are on every night in this city, but none of them are for me. I'm still talking to myself, as I often do, but my voice echoes in my own solitude.

He's running away from me, I'm taking shelter in me again. Maybe the worst, but this is the most noble, I know. I live alone in crowds.

Sometimes you ask me; “Why this sadness, why this melancholy?”

However, you know that; Where the sun goes down, the shadows get longer. And yet you know that; whatever is in the jug leaks out.

Sometimes neither my books, my tie, my pen, nor even the black tarry nights on which I lean on my back weigh this burden. It's like the dome of heaven is collapsing on me. I'm a speck below.

Like a drop in the ocean. I'm drowning, I'm struggling.

I resent life, the seasons, everything and everyone. I hug my helpless confidant my guitar. Only he understands me. One is listening.

Winged tunes. My heart is a steppe in Asia and a crazy colt whose feelings are unbridled.

Thoughts and dreams know no bounds.

I like to put a handful of dream seeds in my pocket from time to time and fight my loneliness like a seven-headed dragon, like my ancestor Oğuzhan.

Sometimes the dragon suffocates me with its arms, sometimes I cut the fierce arms of loneliness with the sword of hope. I'm at that point where words are not enough. If I go to heaven, I'm in hell.

I have closed my heart to love, to love. Whatever I wear does not suit me except sadness.

Where are you expected?

If you come to me, make me smile. If you fall into my heart like spring. I wish you could hold me by the hair and bring me springs.

Where are you, miss?

If you were a balm to my heart, tired of missing longing. If you are the wind, if you are the rain, if you are the blizzard, if you are the storm, if you are the snow. As long as it's you.

Where are you dear?

The wound, the wrapping of this misery, in love with loves. Where are you, O living exhibition of every beauty?

I know?

Loving you, holding the sun,

Loving you swallows fire,

to make you sleep, to love you,

Love you console notes?

I know?

To love you, to taste the longing,

To love you is to lie to death,

To add life to life, to love you,

Loving you is shooting into loneliness

I know?

Loving you digging a well with a needle

to love you, to be angry with longing

breaking the rules, loving you

Loving you writing on water?

You also know that; I wrote your name on my heart, not on the mist on my window. You are in every breath.

You know, "What would change if I wasn't?" Are you asking?

Know that; If it weren't for you, wouldn't I be?

If you have set your eyes on my heart, a mother of love; come get it!

My heart in my palms..