They never taught us misery.

It was a friday night in february, 

that a flash came from the balcony, 

reflecting on the dark windows, 

of my classroom. 

I starting as I saw someone sitting there,

on the last bench of my dark classroom, 

someone in a white coat at midnight, 

looking at the screen all blank, 

staring at it, 

Her chin resting on her hand, 

her black hair tied in a braid, 

hair talking to the breeze, 

the breeze of midnight. 

Curious to know what she was staring at, 

I tried to call her, 

once, 

twice, 

thrice, 

five times, 

I called her five times, 

As she turned to me, 

and this girl with a beautiful face and a pity smile said:

I am staring at what they never taught us in class. 

I am staring at life. 

Blank life.

I looked at her badge, 

her name was Shafaq.