Sitting in the corner of his place
Several tears ran down his face
For the minds who don't understand
The knowledge and history in hand
For those who desacralize the truth
In greed to take center of the azimuth
For the ones in Tornata for ceremony
Aiming to transgress the disharmony
For the cold souls wishing to evolve
Aware of spirituality unaware of love
For the faces faking praise in a smile
Yet when needed they vanish agile
For the futile who shelter their hope
And soon their loyalty would stop
The last tear was heavy for humanity
For forgeting vain brothers in charity
An angel was touched from heaven
Counted his tears they were seven

∴ Lyna Salman