The country is Iran
The region is south
The death is landing on a chair
A deserted broken chair
Sitting there to get some fresh air
Never meant to harm a guest
But to give some rest
I am writing about a chair
In a yard of shingles and shame
The chair that one evening
Became their aim.

In the evening of south
With the words of mouth
We jumped to the minute windows of our cells
From the shadow
Saw an illuminated chair
That never got any attention and care
In a silver October
The bullets of rage
Went through his veins
Blood and lights
On the chair of despair
Before his sixteenth birthday
He died on a broken chair.

* This is a the story of Saeed Alizadeh, a sixteen year old school boy that was executed in front of us in 1981 in NAVA prison. They tied him on a chair and shot him.