The Stranger

By Ziniya Al Baha

Met a man from the mountains but nothing manly about him.

Had a lot on mind, praising paradise, and thought him to be a star left behind.

The artist was drowsy, the painting a blunder.

Lies flowing from his tongue like ashes burning from thunder.

Assuming everyone to be a fool, he doesn’t know the truth,

Bowing in devotion while betraying his master.

Sitting under the same trees where he promised someone a thousand dreams.

Using people as pieces of paper,

playing games like a teenager,

he forgets about consequences that will come later.

Night is changing so will his juncture.

The almightly is watching everything that he’s doin.

The angels are writing about the tears of blood, the tarted body, the scars, and the stirs.

The pains inflicted, the abuses done,

will come crashing wherever he runs.

Stealing was easy, but realization will be tough,

Doesn’t know the weight of tears and asks what are your fears?

We are not the same dear.

Pretending to be innocent, crafts all the rumours.

Mask doesn’t last forever,

Sins are written for real, judgment is near

So remember oh dear,

Crushing others is a sign of fear.

Stop these betrayals and ask yourself what’s real.

Time is flowing so does the beauty, riches perish, and so does the body.

By Ziniya Al Baha