The night will strike again,

through this mind’s mist,

deadening everything I hear.

 

That wanton smile

maneuvers to your face;

those rosy, sweet lips

I shall never taste.

 

Do not entice me

with your warped core.

 

 

Do not ensnare me;

release, from this torn mind

your image.

 

 

Do not love me,

find your lord,  your peace.

 

Keep from me

 

your wicked art,

your decrepit “heart”. 

 

By Hasan Habib

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