Written by: Abdullah Jasim

Writing with a wound in the pencil
Bleeding like rain through a wounded parcel
Writing and looking behind my desk
Feeling watched, yet no one looks at me
Am I going crazy, or am I another normal human?
Crazy…	Feeling….	Doubts…	Sounds…

Underneath the ground someone calls me
Not one, for I hear many voices there
Asking them who they are and what they want
Immortality died within me, died long ago
Voices of hundreds dying behind walls
Voices…	People…	Death…	Wishes…

Life is short, hope I’d say good-bye
A known criminal, among hidden ones
Feeling, crying, tortured, yet hiding
For they think it’s not real, and I’m fake
Believing they’re the kings of pain, yet they heal
Pain…	Wounds…	Heart…	Sadness…

Life is short. And so will it end soon… Don’t weep, though I know you won’t