My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,  And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!

Wartime lipstick is necessarily cobbled together from whatever tailings and gristle were left over once all the good stuff was use to grease propeller shafts. A florid and cloying scent is needed to conceal its unspeakable mineral and animal origins.  It is the smell of War.

INVEST YOUR EMOTIONS CAREFULLY ,BECAUSE EVERYONE IS HERE TO EARN PROFIT OUT OF YOU

STRESS
Abandon it in its orbit, and walk against it.

Written By Rasha Najwa

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