This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Music by Nada A.

Nazly

Men saw her as a meteorite;

they admired her strength and light,

able to destroy and outshine

their demons and their wine.

They never admitted, you bet,

that their girls saw her as a threat

with not only the poetry of her beauty,

but also her heart’s philosophy.

Unfortunately for our dear Nazly,

her beauty saw her pushing up daisies

since loneliness lasted her a lifetime

because she was born under a bad sign.

She’ll pray, every night, to God,

“Isn’t it terribly odd?

that they hated me all day long

for who I am, not when I was wrong?”

I’m sorry, Nazly, that all your life,

no one or nothing made you feel alive.

They were either interested or intimidated,

but never loved you, so away your soul faded.

My dear, if only you knew

that all along God listened to you -

If only you had wiped your tears

and found your beloved dreams.

Nazly, people resemble ants

in your world of blooming plants,

and your story will colour the cracks

of all the beauties that need your back.

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