The Twenty-seventh of Ramadan

Sitting on a prayer rug,
I’m broken like a twig;
Got nothing left to show, Lord
Nothing there to give.

My heart is heavy, laden
With all this filth and grime,
Dripping with the sins that I have
Gathered over time.

Let it rain Your Nur
To wash away the dirt
This sinner has forgotten how
The touch of sin must hurt.

Sitting on a prayer rug,
Trying hard to cry,
Truth for me is buried deep,
Deep inside a lie.

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