I'm drilling my dreams with a drill and mounting my mad soul. I'm already dressed in the peace of the downpour that will start soon.
A hidden joy in my chest and the muralist inside of me, my outer world is painted, people are generally sad, so if it's a possible tear from my eyes.
Ah, there is no more because I am not a milk port, but what I eat and write is like my mother's white milk.
I even share a slice of bread with the world, that's why I revive my inner dancer with my dreams, maybe it's portable with my dreams, the stage I'm on is sometimes called life, sometimes half way with frail legs, of course I'm done and I mark the place where I stay after all, I have died once in a lifetime.
I radiate this atmosphere throughout my life and the endless peace that I find solace in the emotions that pervade and that manifests itself every time I write.
It is not outdated both my soul and my feelings that are never disposable. Of course, the roof of that nasheed that I set up before the alarm I set before the night, how possible and a fiasco resulted in a hidden calm in the past. Now I left behind the days when I was at war with my shadow, which I needed the most.
I wish for a verse.
A dancer is the master of your pen.
I have an impulsive heart, but when I love, it overflows with a huge mercy, moreover, I am different from people, especially from my fellow humans, after all, I don't have much in common with today's people, of course, I escaped before. A glance at your effeminate maybe a domestic passion and still hidden in the phrase of staying innocent The pride that I took back when I was a long time ago, and that I live with my blessed and conservative nature and never being sluggish.
The moisture stored in my soil.
Sometimes mourning is hidden in your heart.
If I am deprived of anything, since my childhood, I have not been deprived of anything, most of all, with the potential love inside me, I am very angry at these last moments of my life, even though I have been frustrating sometimes, I am so offended.
It just means that peace has changed lanes.
It is obvious that I am loaded with fortitude.
When my child's heart, put on a tambourine, sometimes gets excited even with a single word and is only racing with myself in my lane.
Hermit-like shadows.
The content is that which is seen in the center of the rumors.
My answer to those who sometimes want to step on me and crush me with my kidnapped childhood dreams and my heart and humility that played in defense in my early youth.
You know, when I had already given the guarantee from yesterday that if my father came out of the grave, I would not change.
Both docile in my childhood.
A little rebellious in my early youth.
How lonely and reclusive and never good with love in my university years, I found love in books and mentioned my student life in all my cells.
There is a possibility that I may be a dream.
The pinnacle of love and that pendulum that goes back and forth in my reckless heart, in fact, the imbalance on the pan, of course, my emotions, which of course rubs against my logic, and of course I freed my inner voice and ended my entire lifetime of slavery, at least while I was writing, where I lived peace every day for the last eight years of my life.
What is the time to judge?
Especially when I battered time and space with all my might.
A mikado litter, maybe when I was just four or five years old and played like crazy when I was just four or five years old and devoted my childhood to play and love, as well as being a loyal child, knowing no limits in my imagination.
It's a nice feeling that changes lanes.
It is not a lie that I have no limits in my enthusiasm and love, yet I retreated into my shell after the big blow I received from people, while I was doping before the peace that was embroidered with heart, a face in my eyes, freshness in my soul, vitality in my body, but I somehow adjusted to life and I did not even feel my age with the endless enthusiasm of the pen and Of course, my poems, where I play bingo with my grief, and my zinc writings, are the ones that alleviate my troubles in iron weight.
I am reporting myself.
And when I rebel, I face the fact that the best way to repair the complex mechanism inside me is faith and writing, and in fact, I escaped from yesterday and drifted like a bedouin hidden in the underpass of a life, followed by a silkworm hidden in a cocoon of love, at least when I write, I turn into a butterfly until the next day's inspiration With the peace of being faithful to the appointment given by my fairy and the words that I am addicted to, my words are actually like thousands of tombstones hidden in the cemetery of love, while my feelings have come to the yacht, I am writing with enthusiasm what has not been said about yesterday, of course, when the hour of my life comes and thanks to my pen, I am actually grateful to my Lord. I walk with a love and fire that grows day by day.
