by Ali Znaidi
If you don’t like my words,
just throw me with tomatoes,
as simple as that.
Next time my blood will become redder,
and will fuse with my ink.
I will write words in a good way,
till the fragrance of the red apples’ speech
will fill in the air.
Then I think you will throw me with roses,
and put the red carpet under my feet.
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