Thursday, 24 April 2014

0 The Wooden Crutches

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

In the abyss of darkness,
I stand up, try to stand still,
Fall, get up, fall, get up,
And the cycle keeps repeating.

Comes a group of people with a new hope,
Bringing along crutches,
A new strength,
A new spirit.

With the crutches,
I am no longer need the people,
I could stand by my own feets,
I thought.

Termites favour the wooden crutches,
Eaten day by day,
The osteoporotic woods have no more profit,
Left with their plastic arm.

Other people are still standing,
With the crutches,
Oh, it is fully metal.

No room to look for others,
Everything is inside,
It is me,
Either I want or otherwise.

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