Thursday, January 21, 2010

The last cigarette at the top of the minaret

The tallest building in Bangi
Seems to be the minaret of the mosque
So that will have to do for me to fulfill
My pledge as a man who's at the edge

Bearing in mind that this, too, shall pass
I'll crawl up the stairs, out of this self-made mess
Broken glass, promises, confidence all now ghosts of the past
As a new man emerges at the top, almost with a hop

The view will be breathtaking in the stillness of the night
As I light my last cigarette at the top of the minaret
The cold shackles will have bound me for the last time
For I'll be flying off the minaret fearlessly, worry-free.

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