dear grief – 7

dear grief,
you feel like rain,
on a warm hand,
you feel like pain,
on desert sands,
wherever is this train,
to no man’s land,
you’re a stain,
heavy and dragging strain,
tattered clothes,
withered strands.

Wesam El dahabi

Words – mine
Music Armand Amar – Poem of the Atoms

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