The firmament turns black that is in love with indigo and violet. These need to be the Northern Lights of the Middle East. The colors change so beautifully. I'd like to send a satellite to bring them down to me. I'd save them in a glass to show everyone how heavenly life can be. It's Friday night and I recall the day in my dreams. I remember the powerful and vibrant scenes. Even my blanket was waving in the wind – it plead for peace. The kids took me to school to paint the walls ...we ran away (and) we escaped luckily. Something's interrupting the ease and it drags me out of my daydream. I am sure that it's no thunderstorm but it scares me even more. We gather in the kitchen – a few hearts might be braver than one. Who send all these falling stars? I used to love them but this time it feels unwell. The walls burst into pieces and millions of little comets hurtle through the air. There's no shelter – no place to go. The ashes fall to ground like blackened snow. There's no shelter – no place to hide. I remember the day they told me how his sister died. We managed to get down to the moonlit streets and now I am facing them in a gloomy scene. He's losing balance. He's losing grip and he drops down to his knees. He holds him tight –they are sinking together – they're drowning in the tide of the teardrop sea. He lays his ear on the pale chest to travel inside. The young heart stopped beating. The little hero has gone. My new friend and his sun. They've sent him to the never ending night.
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