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ccrle
18/F
I feel a sharp pain in my chest; A numb pain. I gasp for air that seems to not be there. I let out a scream, But I cannot hear a thing. My vision gets blurry. I cannot think. Silence. Cold. Numbness. Has the pain disappeared? Has the world stopped? Papa, Are you there? Can you hear my voice? Can you feel my pain? Do you see my tears late at night As I reminisce our times together? Papa, Please tell me why. Why did you have to leave me? Why am I not able to feel anymore? Why is the world still spinning? Am I the only one whose heart is chained? Papa, How I wish you were still here To answer all my questions, To guide me through this labyrinth that is life. Two summers ago, you went back home. You are now at peace but I would give the world to have more time with you An hour, a minute, or even a second. Just enough time for a hug, a kiss, an ultimate “je t’aime” and a last “bonne nuit”. Papa, You were my first and eternal love. My teacher, mentor and kindest critic. You have always been my guardian angel. From you, I learned to walk, swim and dance But the greatest lesson you ever taught me Was to forgive others and believe in myself. You held my hand as I took my first steps, Taught me to use my brain instead of my fists. Your intelligence, faith and dedication Were often the source of my admiration. You dimmed me “Queen of my heart”, And no one shall ever take that title away from me. My conviction and passion, My two most prized qualities, Are nothing but a reflection Of your great education. Papa, Although my heart aches, my mind is at ease knowing that you are finally free. A few months from now, I will be starting a new chapter of my life. One that terrifies me, But I know you are by my side. I hope that when you look down upon me, All you feel is pride. I cannot deny the pain I feel But the joy of your memory is far greater. I have found myself doubting my faith lately, But for the sake of potentially seeing you again , I am willing to believe.
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Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 2:11 AM UTC
Papa
I feel a sharp pain in my chest; A numb pain. I gasp for air that seems to not be there. I let out a scream, But I cannot hear a thing. My vision gets blurry. I cannot think. Silence. Cold. Numbness. Has the pain disappeared? Has the world stopped? Papa, Are you there? Can you hear my voice? Can you feel my pain? Do you see my tears late at night As I reminisce our times together? Papa, Please tell me why. Why did you have to leave me? Why am I not able to feel anymore? Why is the world still spinning? Am I the only one whose heart is chained? Papa, How I wish you were still here To answer all my questions, To guide me through this labyrinth that is life. Two summers ago, you went back home. You are now at peace but I would give the world to have more time with you An hour, a minute, or even a second. Just enough time for a hug, a kiss, an ultimate “je t’aime” and a last “bonne nuit”. Papa, You were my first and eternal love. My teacher, mentor and kindest critic. You have always been my guardian angel. From you, I learned to walk, swim and dance But the greatest lesson you ever taught me Was to forgive others and believe in myself. You held my hand as I took my first steps, Taught me to use my brain instead of my fists. Your intelligence, faith and dedication Were often the source of my admiration. You dimmed me “Queen of my heart”, And no one shall ever take that title away from me. My conviction and passion, My two most prized qualities, Are nothing but a reflection Of your great education. Papa, Although my heart aches, my mind is at ease knowing that you are finally free. A few months from now, I will be starting a new chapter of my life. One that terrifies me, But I know you are by my side. I hope that when you look down upon me, All you feel is pride. I cannot deny the pain I feel But the joy of your memory is far greater. I have found myself doubting my faith lately, But for the sake of potentially seeing you again , I am willing to believe.
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65
I salute all the parents who sacrificed everything to ensure a better life for their kids. I feel for the kids that are constantly told they do not belong. I celebrate the courage of the families who sought a new beginning. I stand behind the immigrants, and the refugees. Behind those who were brave enough to make a choice and those who did not have one. I stand by the kids who fight for a better future; Those who claim a country that refuses to recognize them; Those who are told to go back to a place they do not know. I stand by those condemned for wanting to be alive. I stand by those who dared to dream.
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Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
I Stand by the Immigrants
She is a constellation wearing a human costume. She has the cosmos in her eyes and her soul is made of the brightest stars.
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Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:29 PM UTC
made of stars
Black boy stripped of his innocence. Black boy denied his right to be a kid. Black boy labeled since birth. Black boy criminalized. Black boy stereotyped. Black boy violated. Black boy silenced. Black boy monitored. Black boy put into a box. Black boy seen as a menace. Black boy forced to grow too fast. Black boy with his back to the world. Black boy, you are loved Black boy, you are a prince Black boy, you are beautiful Black boy, you are smart and worthy. Black boy, go on and speak your truth. Black boy, go on and dance. Black boy, go on and sing. Black boy, go on and paint. Black boy, go on and be a kid.
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Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
Black Boy
I look at the massacre around me and see. I see battalions of men and women fighting. I see the corpses of the defeated with the memory of blades on them and the gratification of the victors with their bloodstained swords in hand. I see friends and family weep for the fallen and swear to avenge them. I see mothers hold onto the cold bodies of their sons and fathers getting ready to bury their daughters. I see orphans too young and innocent to fully comprehend what is happening. Some fight out of anger and spite and others out of pride and duty. Some say it is for their kings and religions others, for their honour and blood. On either sides, pain and grief outshine triumph and satisfaction. Amongst the combatants, A man sits on his brown horse watching the massacre unfold. Hair and beard like flames, scars on his face and eyes the color of the blood being shed before us, he stares straight at me as a man is stabbed in the back right in front of us. His face is expressionless, almost like a mask, and the only decipherable emotion is the burning rage dripping from his gaze.
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Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:57 PM UTC
For God, blood and pride
Expectations are the quickest and most certain way to ruin any adventure or new experience.
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Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
Expectations
Look at me and see me. See me for what I am, For who I am. Not who you think I am, not who you hoped I would become or who you want me to be, not even for who you've been told I am, but for who I truly am. Even though it might break your heart, disappoint you or crush your soul, accept that I grew up to become my own person with my own beliefs and values. Look at me and see me, the real me not a younger you. That is the greatest gift you could ever give me.
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Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
Dear Mother
What is the meaning of patriotism? Has it become synonym to blind loyalty? Does it mean letting your morals be defined by your government? Is it turning a blind eye to millions of people starving in another nation because your economy profits on the sale of guns to their oppressors? Is it believing that one's life is more important than others' based on where they were born? Is it being complacent to bombing innocent people one after the other for what their greedy government or a small percentage of extremists did? Is it valuing the life of 10 of your citizen more than a hundred of another country's? Loving your country is normal but inherently feeling morally superior to the rest of the world because you were born within the invisible borders of a country is idiotic.
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Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
Patriotism
I look at the horror around me and see. I see mothers and fathers helpless as their hungry infants cry out. I see men and women uselessly working the arid soil in a last desperate attempt to feed their starving children. I see folks weep as they are forced to choose between nourishing their old parents or their young kids. I see people so gaunt, I can count each one of their ribs as they shiver despite the extremely hot weather. I see frail once-friends fight over a minuscule piece of bread. I see a people suffering so greatly and so slowly that death would come as deliverance to them. And in the middle of deserted fields, dried up lakes and emaciated kids stands a black figure. Not a man nor a woman nor anything in between. Just a dark ghostly figure holding a golden scale in its right hand. I am mesmerized by the shadow and cannot help but stare and although, it has no eyes, I can feel it is staring back. My curiosity disappears as I am suddenly overcome with a feeling of emptiness.
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Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
The Egyptian Curse
I will tell the world about you. I will sing it to the birds and the bees, scream it to the sky and the seas, even whisper it to the wind and the trees. I will tell the world about you and hope it knows about me too.
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Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:50 PM UTC
I will tell the world about you