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.

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