When I Curse Fate, It's Not Me,

All Was Taken Away From You: White Dresses, Wings, Even Existence. Yet I Believe You, Messengers. There, Where The World Is Turned Inside Out, A Heavy Fabric Embroidered With Stars And Beasts, You Stroll, Inspecting The Trustworthy Seams.

Religion Used To Be The Opium Of The People. To Those Suffering Humiliation, Pain, Illness, And Serfdom, Religion Promised The Reward Of An After Life. But Now, We Are Witnessing A Transformation, A True Opium Of The People Is The Belief In Nothingness After Death, The Huge Solace, The Huge Comfort Of Thinking That For Our Betrayals, Our Greed, Our Cowardice, Our Murders, We Are Not Going To Be Judged.

A Weak Human Mercy Walks In The Corridors Of Hospitals And Is Like A Half-thawed Winter.

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Remind Us / How Difficult It Is To Remain Just One Person.

The Voice Of Passion Is Better Than The Voice Of Reason. The Passionless Cannot Change History.