Dead Salvage Şiiri - Muhammed Akkuş

The cold chains of my life tightening with no mercy
Frantic ideas scarring the sand grains—verbose
As if a rainstorm were busting my own life, leaving no memory
Yet the trace of hope stayed covert on purpose

The function of freedom surpasses its notion
Unfathomably I took the reins back in motion
Everything blossoms without warning, within me
Grasping the art as the salvation— fully, I can see