Written by: habiba
it is a sword of domocles
an imperceble line of passing smoke
it is like a hanger in a wordrobe
taking heavy load
yet always concealed
it is the lens of a binoculars
always mirrowing, doing a thankless job
tedious, tiring and all
it is the sharp edge of a guillotin
meant for a dying neck
sharp, biting and incisive