Hey,

This is shofiq. I live at Dhaka in Bangladesh.

I'm new to hive.blog. So I have to say something about myself.

I am a person who is careless about life. But I want to do a lot. I like to travel. I like to play indoor games and also like to read the story book. I like to listen but not talk. I love to sleep. That's why I can't see the sunrise in the morning. But sometimes I like to see the canopy in the midnight seat on the rooftop.

My family consists of four members. Father is an electrical engineer, mother is a housewife. The younger sister is in 8th grade. Everyone in the family is busy all day, and at night they eat and hang out together.

I don't like noise. I am a person who loves quiet and peaceful environment. But Aadhaar is terrified of the night. If I like to travel, I don't like to go anywhere alone without friends. And my family doesn't want to leave me alone.

I like to walk and stay in a very normal way. I like to play badminton and 8ball pool. I like to take pictures.

However, it is sad to say that at present I spend all day just sleeping and eating. Apart from this, there is no work for anyone other than moving household items all day long. The main reason is such an unhealthy environment in the country. Although nature is breathing a little calmer because of this. I have not been out of the house for the last four months.Because a healthy person cannot get rid of this disease. And Amit is a Hapani patient. Anyway, let's move on to another topic.

I am also a food lover. Birani is my favorite food. And I said no to coffee. If I don't put my lips in the cup of coffee, I can't sleep at night.

I never made love. I will not say that no one liked it. But never said love. Because, to me, external beauty is not everything. And there is nothing new to say about today's childhood love. But I have a poem about this childhood love.

I named the poem

"This Poem"

See this poem with your own eyes 👁

This poem is written in your name👰

This poem is like a black girl Very lonely🙇

This poem is a secret wound inside the chest😓

Hundreds of thousands of these poems 🏧

This poem is not called fat boy as much as love🚶

This poem is made of mud 👣

This poem moves within itself💗

This poem is middle-aged👩

👫Suddenly holding hands👫

This was some messy writing about myself. This is the first time I have written in such a way. I hope I can be with you every now and then. And your help is very much desirable to be with.

❤Allah Hafeez ❤