Chatting: Hacking Into My Pride
my pride
had been
and has
a bad rock.
a vertical polished
vertical
high
long enough
wall.
sometimes
my pride
turns
to be
a fragile
artifact
which I have to carry with me
and make
sure
none of us
falls off and brakes
down.
sometimes
my pride
shows up
like
life,
a flowers
-a woman perfect flower
erotic,
moisturized
with heavy rain or soft dew, and burned with a calming heat,
and has all the elements of a beautiful life.
My endeavor
is to get
rid
of it
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poem by Atef Ayadi
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