I do not want to sing melodies
with words that speak in sad whispers
Though that is all I do.
I do not want to write
About a muse that smiles in pretense
Though that is all I have
I do not want to walk
And be beclouded by extended arms of beggars
Though that is all I see.
I do not want to hear about shed blood
That flows free in every street in Aleppo
But that is all they say.
I do not want to live amidst the lifeless bodies
That fills the streets of Borno and sparks politics of execu-thieves
But the other choice is death.