Behind the Door

In a world where silence
Is a luxury at the core
Grab the peace
Where there’s only violence at the door.

How do you hold onto it?
How do you keep it, or
Stay sane in a fit
Where chaos is always at the door?



Heart, ohhh sweet heart,

I long for the days you were red,

Not a sunburnt heart full of dread.

Trampled heart

Disillusioned organ full of cheer,

Don’t give the fight that’ll impart

Moral, knowledge, friendship,

To all those who value

Mentorship over the need for material that rip

Your heart and soul

Replacing them with a money bowl.

By: Malak Kalmoni Chehab