The people who drown with their dreams in the groove like a farm where the wheat is asleep is
no more for someone, the taste of bread, with rice pills still sleepy and comfortable. "Al -Alem"! In the queue of self -sellers between the ring to be in the mouse, the cat is the mice
I am still on my wound, I say from the live girls to the grave this flag, I stay like a patch With your sadness
on the walls of Facebook, I write a prisoner , but - as Foroughs put it - with the same cementation
I have all the unspoken cries, tears in my eyes, s land ...
