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يامن سألتِ الناس عني إنني = رجلٌ جنون العشق في صفحاتي

الاثنين، 22 أغسطس، 2011

Ink


Ink
Of 
our Tears
it
's our groans that we write
But it's Overcome and write us
 as If the black lines
our ribs
and the Inkwell
as if as it's The heart 
who Hurts us
And the pen has become knife
Tearing us
scatter us
cut our black ribs
Looking for inkwell
To 
Killing us
And steal from us voluntarily
our pain
to write the pain and write us
the summary of Grieving pain
& Love
was hurts us
& take the sleep from our eyes
so someone comes to bless us
And  Praise us
On something hurts us
 that we Call it's
our Poems ..

the Poet :master of words


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