Pastels


Pastels
I smile on behalf of my mate of school,bacause the sharp waves of despair flood that small character taking off ages and the limpid frame of a joyful tothless mouth, dragged toward the sparks of the fear inside a circle of pawns who feed the embers of hatred continually,he doesn't want anymore to play with kites and cart cause there's no sky and no road inside that chamber of mud and flames.
I cry on behalf of the armies of migratory birds because they can't rest anymore on top of the neighbourhood blocks,the rings of metal and tolling of bullets crumbled it,like an almighty and giant bat would do,no more handball at the ground floor.
I hope on behalf of mom's friend stucked in a maze,who always tries to climb prayers till the light,to finally meet the reaveled arcane,but the thight fist of brutality is holding the spirits of her husband and her son,missing at every meal.
I'm sorry on behalf of the citrus fruits tears which are burning cheeks,eyelashes and it stopped to fall inside the tea because the acidity of mankind deprived us of a break,eyes tired bags of dark leather dazed by so much smell of kerosene,red visions which drip on the smooth ceramic of a cup,I'm Ali trying to draw for them my desire and if you wonder why the slight colors,it's because i got only pastels left.
(Dedicated to the thousands of children living in warzones)

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