A man...
On a frontline,
In a trench,
Against thousands men.
Blue against Red.
waiting to be shed
Behind a Redline
Separating him from them.
Hiding down.
Fearing a coming dawn,
But seeking a crown.
Ducking few inches
Away from the path of fires.
That seeks his same desires.
Writing on the sands.
With his bleeding index finger,
"No More Defeats under These Feet"
Hearing bombs falling,
Explosions around..
Fears spreading like diseases.
Tears dropping cause hazes.
Rain falling
washing his sins
that never ended.
He Jumped to the red line,
Reaching the spot of mind
Of no return,
Of no remain,
Running on the sands of bullets.
Through the fogs of souls.
Hearing calls.
Bullets going through him.
Feeling nothing,
Only shocking.
killed 100 of them,
Left 100 wounds in him.
Fell down on his knee,
couldn't see.
just disappear.
A smile of him,
made the rest of them shine,
and fine.
To remember him for a long time.
To be continued-->
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3 comments:
you write so well! I like it!
As I said on hi5 i enjoy talking to you!
you are a great person and I would like to meet you someday:)
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Ibn al-Mubarak said: I have seen wrong actions killing hearts, and their degradation may lead to their becoming addicted to them.
Turning away from wrong actions gives life to the hearts, and opposing your self is best for it.
That's nice saying, But Hussni Mobarak said "Eat Molo5ya, take care of the jamoosah, and oppose the islamic movements, Wrong actions are only led by them, and Good Doers exist only in the Arabs League"
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