My dear seasons, you are my soul mate

At the square root of my sadness, which is rendered impossible, I build and violate theories. While abiding by the laws and rules for a lifetime.

Dear season…

My single dreams…

This modest love that I fell into and the human themes that I took advantage of…

Is it my disappointment, my loss, the names that I can't get out of my mind, and their sentences and even the phone numbers that are not deleted in my lower memory?

Dear season, since you freed me yesterday, now I'm stuck by your collar and I am happy and hope while I am hidden sometimes on the slope of my life, where I go and go like a yo-yo.

I loved you from the seasons, I gave you my eyes full of sadness and tears...

I am entrusted with love and hope, and in love with my Lord and every night I run, syllable syllable.

My sadness is just like yours.

I was expelled from my paradise where sadness is popular.

I am in love with the city and poetry.

When I couldn't sleep in the nights of madness, my eyes and my frayed emotions, and when I suddenly opened the locked drawer of my heart to service and here is my heart that I locked again...

I have words that I hide and without getting mixed up with those who declare that love is a superstition, I love so many people from afar and I will not dare to say my love anymore, of course, registered in God's place and on the shelves of my heart, thousands of books and sentences and you are the one I address, dear season, what is it? Even though I am a wind in love with you and accompanying you.

My color is pale.

My heart is sad.

It was set on fire in my temple and I am full of hijab in anticipation of the day I will emigrate. A world that I fled back to, on the other hand, the world I embraced, in fact, those who stole my world, actually those who knocked on my heart's door, in fact, I consider that great torture that I did to me as a virtue.

Bondage or love?

At best, it's my ignorant courage, or every time one falls into difficulties, one cries to someone or someone, of course, the taboos of my whole life that I was denied, maybe my own taboos that I don't let people touch.

After this difficult time, I knew love and believing in someone, though it was easy.

Am I leaving the door open? Of course, no one can pass through that door now, I'm on the threshold of the world and the hereafter, and in every lane of my life where I was tortured when loving was my only luxury and my heart turned into a plucked chicken after being beaten and plucked out, and here I am following the traces of the season, destiny and hope.

We have lost our happiness.

My desire is hidden and while I live aimlessly.

My meaning is love, but what happened?

I have certainly built bridges.

Of course my heart has been plundered.

Of course, my hair is messy, my heart is avoiding the eyes of anyone.

A garment that I wear for a lifetime that never gets dirty or smelly and is pure and free from relative shadows and unadulterated love...

I wish a smile from the universe.

And a greeting that I would like to receive in return.

If they don't receive God's greetings, there is nothing to be done after this hour, and I was out of breath when I was the key point with my soul in Purgatory, and I was out of breath when I was not fond of my soul, maybe I ignored the breath of my soul from the first day...

Let me tell you what I am struggling with in a world where I am ignored, and by the way...

I have a desire that is incubating.

The longing for a world where the apocalyptic crowd coincides with silence.

I have a color and I have a colorful heart.

I have an accent and I'm waiting for the day I emigrate.

I have a temperament that is festive at home.

I have a temple that has been plundered.

I have a heart whose rumble is heard from afar.

I have a soul that's crazy.

I don't have an exposure either because I can't fit my thousands of exposures into a single sentence, but I live and keep my dreams and hope alive in that sentence I know and love:

If there is a God, there is no sorrow.

Come see that there are those who turn the earth into hell, and there is so much evil and oppression, and while my Lord, who took care of my sadness and my sad heart, never left me.

Someone's gone.

Some will be lost again.

In fact, my vanishing one is actually the one that made me experience hell.

Does one live and write and love persistently?

Ah, dear season, you are my soul mate and I will surely fade at the end of the day and I must cry and I must climb that lofty mountain and just when I am about to reach the summit and here I am wandering around the slope of that mountain after that mountain they hit shackles on my inner voice and the voice outside judges me mercilessly and throws it to the ground.