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Poem

In the market with full of people, 
there are many decorative ones figuring at the back of the vitrine in the front of thousands random eyes. 

As my pant coloured with alley dust of humble, I have never been back of the vitrine along with thousands random shots.

When you go with them to an italian restaurant you could proud of them that restaurant lord know you, eagerly welcome you, and considering special sits for you - seems a worthy moment to happen. 

But if you came with me, 
you could be proud of an real open embrace, strongly runs, comes and hugs us from a fortune teller child beside the restaurant.

This has always been a fighting of prouds - between me and figurative people, as long as opened stores become closed and blind closed eyes become opened .../.
..................
From: 
Thirst of Mirage
Mostafa Sarabzadeh

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