Poem by Sehma Helaa
The mess in my head
Do not miss the mess , for the mess is in mu head
No room to furnish , no bride to wed.;
Just another dull walk,another homeless cat,
another roaming dog exhausted and unfed.
Do ot miss the silent mess , for the roar is in my head ,
On that damp day,
No glistening roads , trimmed with clourful flowers yellow , pink and red.
just another blunt hill for a drunken sailor,
who has lost his map and fallen to failure,
clinging to his ragged net woven with fade thread.
I am like that sailor with my dry pens and books unread.
Do not miss the mess for the mess is in my head,
just another crowd , another cluster of deceiving people
one day they claim loyalty and my friendship they plead,
one day they cast their daggers and my blood they shed.
Do not miss the mess ,for the mess is in my head,
just another shallow summer day,
careless who is alive and who is dead .
do not miss the mess for the battle is in my head ,
just another dreamer with a mocking face,
laughing at my step and crippling my pace,
shalll i love the mess of cutmy head instead.