A poem in Arabic is called Shi'ir
Hair is called Sha'ar
I was just writing as usual
I am never separated from my book and pen
Under my wing is my paper
My ink trickling through
My mom and Step dad having a conversation
About things in our hearts
I wanted to write my feelings and her feelings
Into a sequence playing with words
My mom made a funny joke about what i was writing
As we spoke of my old career choice of journalism
Then i said I am writing Shi'ir
My step dad stepped in and dominates the conversatation
Into a little joke
Well get some Immac
Get rid of it
I said i don't need the immac
I just need my pen to get out my feelings
Until i clicked onto the joke and had a giant laugh with my mom and him
Which is just what i needed