East Bank of Euphrates
The fish are very angry, and wish the sun would finally stop, Robbing their already depleted river, drop by evaporating drop, They know not, why their water, is vanishing with a shroud, And then sun cannot tell them, it is
Luciferin
Every time I am asked, why the truth has me enslaved, It reminds me of my freedom, that darkness has depraved, So I tell them, “the truth has, and seeks, no control of me”, “The truth is not about control,
Midnight Sun
Gathering the last bit of energy, I reached the bus-stop, Whatever else did, the fatigue never did stop, Broken in the body, slowly breaking in the mind, I wonder why I put up with this daily grind. The cars, the