The War in Syria

His father didn’t sleep in his apartment.

The apartment was being bombed.

The absurdity of paying the rent.


So a colleague told me,

dark circles underneath his eyes.

He was working double shifts

in spite of his lack of hope, worried.


My father said nothing to this.

He is both a fascist and a soldier

who has seen the world.

But cares only about one thing:

Nationalism (/himself).


Confronted with this,

conversation fell silent. 



There was nothing to talk about

when it came to self-doubt.