Column Basman Elderawi
I Write a Song
I write a song
The lyrics is a life
A life of a boy
His name is a poem
His smile is a joke
He was living in a box
But he didn’t know
Grandmother’s yard was
His heaven
A stuff bear was his childhood’s
best friend
The boy grew
His body was too big for a box
The box was too tight for a free
Soul
He hasn’t known that his skin,
His root is a sin
A gun toy wasn’t on his sight
Yet they killed his stuff bear
And his best friend
His heart knocks for love
For a girl
My skin isn´t a skin – painting from Malak Mattar
For his home
His hope awakens again
He wants to dance with her
To kiss her
To practice all kind of love
One summer day, he was about to confess
To her about his love a
Yet he was shot at a protest
He was sweating and screaming for his
Right
Yet an explosion happens
A block fall over his head
And killed him
Before a confess
A kiss and a dance
