The winds, they stir in the desert, they blow hither and thither,
Shamals sneak in to coats the days,
I rise , floats on an updraft,
Yes the wind beneath my wings have shifted,
The dust that coat me is all that is left ,
Here it smells of death, the dunes have turned...
They have become craters, and now they rust...
The updraft is just sorrow now, just sorrow is me.
the godlike ones calculate, lies for money, closed eyes ,
Not to see ,yet the sand turns red all around ...
Poem by Pc-3 (12/09/2023)
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