Doom and revolt

On good days, I follow the caravan of love

I praise the lord and inshallah fold my hands

On bad days, the revolt is waiting for me

To curse your fickle temples to hell

What is love but being compelled to give myself

To those who want me the least

Who deserve me the least

Who see me the least

Who can hurt me the most

Keep your blessings and covers

I choose the streets over my bed.

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