A close friend of mine once wrote a poem describe the pain she went through during the time I was being distant with her. The poem conveyed how 'a fire' had consumed her, this is but a reply to her.
A poem written by a dying poet in war torn Syria to Bashar, the present president of the country.
Do not sleep o poor soul! For in your ear the devil urinates. He is happy seeing you away from your goal, Walking away from your lord; master of all fates. A matter of minutes won’t cause you any suffer, The devil sinks deep into your heart with his drops of kufr. You hear … Continue reading The Devil urinates.