The Refuge’s Diary

Torn, grimy, and failed on dusty ground

I saw an exercise book around a dirty place

And picked it as I stood from near detachment

Then took it to my sleeping area to the verge

Beside the village’s main boulevard, I were conceit

And I did put it on my shabby blanket

The time reached to be a night

All streets bulbs started to give light

I wanted to sleep as the usual, playing with stars aloft

As I did supine, in that pacified warm moment

I opened the dirty exercise book to read it

It was a true life; suffer due to war, cause to migrate

O! how a poor and a street man cries

It was impossible, I wanted to neglect

The warm temperature became cold, the sky also looked to wept

But, I couldn’t, the last pages did oblige me

Losing a family, crossing the desert, hunger, and thirst

I became so sad, my eyes dropped tears before the rain came from the firmament