As if I write the words
Are there any unwritten words that I haven’t written?
How many times bombs have been thrown
The hands and the faces of the children are blood
Their future is throw in the streets by the powers and crushed
Best flowers grows in the mountains
The eaters are entering the countries with their armies
The letters are written on yahoos and hotmail’s
How would so much dirt be cleansed?
For which domestication can I be wild?

My lashes are falling into the sea of my windbreaks
We became ashamed of the children and the stars!

©Günsel Djemal 12.09.2011