By: Chahra BELOUFA

Today I knew who is best my shoulder
To tear pity and enfold no heart’s order
Since happiness substance I’m drinking it colder!
Who is silly and grew on sensitiveness fonder
Only to feel and be never felt
Like the Stonehenge of the Celt
Only seen and when tourists went
No stone could know what one another’s grimace meant
Because all were different
And to understand the other it is not enough to be
It is the matter if tourists read the whole story
And were enough efficient
To consider every little print a heritage of glory!
So from futile occasions;
I discover whose faces bear authentic sensations
And in real moments of torments
I seek if these faces are found in worst situations
To confirm shoulders to cry on assumptions!

Categories: Poetry

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