Tonight in Gaza... an Israeli soldier counted the bullets like prayers.
One for the father, one for the mother.
But when the gun turned to the child... even God closed His eyes.
Think of this blog as a diary gone public; a mix of spilt ink, overthinking, and poetic chaos. I write what hearts whisper at 2 a.m., then pretend it’s art. Welcome to madness.
My little brother didn’t understand. He dragged a chair, stood on it, pressed his lips to the glass frame of the picture on the wall, and wh...
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