Tridents of assentation, Never cease to bother me,

The soldiers stood with their heads hung low and weapons sheathed, the colours of their uniform clashing just like they did not so long ago. The same people who were trying to pry open each other's throats stood shoulder to shoulder under the common denominator of grief and shock.

“Honey, can we stop here for a while? I need to catch my breath. My 60 year old body is not built for this much walking,” said the man as he gulped a whole flask of water.

When you enter the room I get no waves or nods, But I hear silent hellos in the sound of your footsteps slowing down

At this moment, it feels like I'm watching you from afar. Like through a hollow, dim tunnel that only sheds light over every detail of you.

When I was a child, I had a family of dolls. They lived in a little white dollhouse, with a blood-red roof and blue windows.

I'm lost in this path I've been to before, Running, chasing my own shadow.

Seven thousand sins Inside little bins.

In the mirror blotched from years of use and obscured under the layer formed from accumulated smoke and dust, Asiah glanced at her own reflection; blurred, and beaten down.

She closes her doors like the mimosa plant when touched. She brings the oxygen to breathe but hides away when exposed. As much as the scorching sun and the heavy rain make things demeaning, she helps bring happiness through the nectars she pollinates.

There is a woman that resides in my heart, She is unlike anyone I've ever met.

It has been two years since I, a naive, aspiring soul, had applied for the post of the manager of this famous writer.

Eyes closed, with a breath of ice, Her fingers glide upon the ivory keys.

Just as he was about to call out for someone, a middle aged man with a fluttering mess of greyish hair strode in with a blue file in hand. Shafkat cursed himself for not being able to recall his name.

“Can you please press 10,” said a petite young woman as she rushed into the elevator. Her hair was all over her face and it seemed liked she'd been running. She must be late for something.

There was a thought, a question, Perhaps a doubt somewhere in my mind. What are those things and beliefs That I have left behind?

There's no missing home, if you've found one within you It ends how it begins and begins just the same, Today, I'm happy to be here.

The sword in my hand glared at me. I looked at my timorous figure in the shiny foible, and bluntly saw the Queen of The Whites in her regal bearings and magisterial beauty stand behind me.

In your mind, a seed of doubt, Will grow into a tree, Cut it down, don't let it sprout, Then go and set it free.

The sword in my hand glared at me. I looked at my timorous figure in the shiny foible, and bluntly saw the Queen of The Whites in her regal bearings and magisterial beauty stand behind me.