Can you take your stiletto from me dear?
You'll find it in my back
I've had lots of practice reaching for it
But I can't quite get the knack
While you're at it there's your axe dear
It's buried in my head
I've groped and fumbled to reach it
But all I can see is red
(Oh dear I think I might be dead!)

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Translation of my Arabic Poem (“The Choice”) 

Who, in the World, chooses his birth? 
Who chooses his family and children? 
Who chooses his fate and country? 
Who chooses the time to go to heaven? 

But it is possible to choose our day 
To sincerely care about family and work 
This will be the first right step to our future 
To achieve our goals while we're alive 

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