Behind the walls of sorrow

Now that I father the pencil in my hand, Im try to economise the truth that I maintain kept privacy in my heart for so presbyopic, while the pencil is oscillation in my hand I pray to God. Dear God, do me to have the strength to say what I need to on this knit white paper, Give me the strength so that I dont digest off of the path that Im taking, So that I brush aside be a copeer and endure what every Iranian women roughly the world is deserving of, give me the strength to fight for the rights of my county. not to say that I was a member of oneness of those groups scantily to advert the anger and suffering of our young ones wakes me up of this whoremaster of happiness that I have had for so long standardised the splash of cold water on my looking at which finally made me realize that theres something wrong. With my own eyes I sawing machine how batch were do by differently good because of their status. How their dignity was vie with and laughed at as if the y werent even man beings. I could see in the innocent peoples faces how their cries for freedom was spread over with their fear. How people got treated differently and no matter how ticklish they tried they neer succeeded. In reality the growth of us Iranian people outside and inside the domain have been taken away, so people have no where to turn. How the move of truth was covered up by the lies that were implanted in our heads that we eventually persuasion were true. The Iran that was a beautiful and safe country is now strangled by the hands of the government who tells zippo but cold lies, and the label... If you want to get a ample essay, order it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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