How many words are there,
Like letters sleeping silently in the folds of an old paper covered in centuries of dust.
There was so much to say, yet I too have become silent like time.
Now only unspoken cries float in the air,
Which no one hears, yet the gaze of the sky hears.
I want to scream and say, ‘I am not well.’
How many rivers cry in these words, how many dry leaves sway,
Yet when I open my mouth, the world is surprised. People now understand the act of laughter, but the language of crying is not in their dictionary.