some forgetten words, second cell of my brain

Someone is looking through my eyes: A story of a story teller
-by Ehabski

suddenly words didnt make any sense
not to him nor to me
among all the madness and tense
why do I seem stranger in my body

Its a question he used to ask
in that windy, rainy day at a coffee shop corner
he stood reeling with a wide creepy smile
"is there another chance for us?"
the story teller asked, refering to our life!

and the mosque called for a prayer
The mosque was empty
some people said, drug dealers use it to sell
while that father is occupied with paying off the bills

!

why do i feel strange under my own skin?
new ones born while new ones die
its the lonely and the powerful skill
life had ..
suddenly death is not too far
not too scary, as if it was a chance
for a change
yet we still are arguing
who is better to rule the world.

the story teller was tired
while another officer is fired
and i still wonder,
why does it feel strange under my skin!