enter ye my courtyard
with finger trace
and tender brace
be soft and have regard

-wes el dahabi | inside

And, I’m always too heavy,
too present,
too honest,
too grotesque.

This wall of resilience,
was built to keep the hard of heart,

What’s a man,
of this many parts,
to present as,
but brutality of a sword of prose.

When everything he sees,
he feels,
he knows,
presents itself at the altar of his soul,
asking to be sacrificed,
into the being of the world.

Take these pieces then,
don’t lay them,
to the graves of the forsaken,
these are for the heartbroken,
the burned minds,
singed hearts,
seventh layered, skin deep vulnerables,
I see you, I feel you,
because I feel me,
I am you, you are me,
is there anything else,
in this introversion to see,
nothing inside,
but oil from olive trees,
and burned knees,
and zephyr breeze,
and urns of tea,
and me and me.

-wes el dahabi | inside

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