A thousand amputees

In our land, no one dares to say, "Do you want to die in bed like women?" Here women are martyred like men
"Perhaps it is Wael's cheese."
You are the first in love, the second in thought, a third who left with the soul, a fourth who lost the right to separation, and a fifth whose departure exceeded the departure of the heart.
"Perhaps it is Barsoum's affection."
Death is nothing but a handiwork. One of us dies an irreversible death, and another lies with his body waiting for his sunrise.
"Perhaps it is a silent wail."