So many things I want to say,
I want to write tones of paper
With the blue stamps of tears
No need of envelope –
Meaningless effort
My words just slipped from the
edge
Of the horrible silence –
Sliding down the road
Covered with dust.
Dusty are the souls I meet
As if we live in a desert
As if we just beg for little
Love as blue rain
Falling in another skies,
Where we are washed away
Pure and cleansed
As we need to be
Belong to our God.
n.nour *
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