I wish to weep

all theories
like clichés

shot to hell,

all these small faces

looking up

beautiful and believing;

i wish to weep

but sorrow is

stupid.

i wish to believe

but belief is a

graveyard.

we have narrowed it down to

the butcherknife and the

mockingbird.

wish us

luck.

Charles Bukowski

İkinci bir emre kadar beni en güzel anlatan şiir bu.