Through the dust, my mind still recites alphabets to the wind.
I wanted to learn every syllable I needed,
Every matrix that could build up ideas,
Every algebra I was born to solve.
Where I grew is the bedrock of ignorance.
The belief is that foreign knowledge will erase our heritage—
But it doesn’t.
I can solve many X's in my head,
But there’s not a single grain from my mother’s farm
I won’t multiply with immense profit.
The calculus I carry stands a chance at winning,
Yet I still crave the kind of knowledge
That builds roads, draws out buildings,
And makes every waiting child
Become another epitome of wisdom.
I just need a chance to prove I’m worth every trial.
I can face competitions meant to break me down.
And I will rise—
Because no one is born with knowledge.
We all grow to learn.
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 6:22 AM UTC
Where does peace go when it’s gone?
Does it disappear with the moon before dawn?
Children who once slept on beds now wake up on lifeless bodies.
They see the ruins of crumbled cities and broken homes.
They hear the deafening sound of missiles and bombs
That sent their parents missing.
They look around for something to remember—
But they are too innocent to understand grief.
Their bellies will grumble from morning till night
Until they give in to hunger—
Hunger for food, hunger for warmth, hunger for medicine.
None was given in exchange.
Instead, they are hunted down to graveyards.
Toys are meant to be played with,
But what falls into their hands are pieces of blasted bodies.
A young boy with an amputated hand looks at himself,
Then at his mother, asking:
“Where are the remaining parts of my body?”
A question that tears apart every whole in his mother’s soul.
With no strength left in her,
She cries—with no answers to spill out.
A young girl who once studied in classrooms
Now studies how many casualties lie on these battlefields.
Children who once ran barefoot in the dust and danced with joy—
Now run from the echoes of guns.
Where does peace go when it’s gone?
Is it hiding behind the triggers?
Or buried under the bodies piled up in death?
Peace and justice should not be just words—
But action and purpose.
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 6:19 AM UTC
You said you loved me_
It took me 730 days and two hours
To wake up from your deceit.
What was all this affection you showed me?
You promised to replace my dejection with your attention.
But I forgot to ask: was it friendly or intimate?
The half I planned to spend my life with
Turned into pieces I wish to crush,
Over and over again.
You told me you loved me,
And I repeated it like a mantra.
We shared ideas, dined together;
I was happy, blinded by hope.
I thought you could replace
The love I couldn’t find elsewhere.
Now I wear shades to hide my sore eyes,
To shield myself from the paint you flung at my heart.
I wear a mask to stop inhaling the love you feigned.
I must stop accepting the French kisses
You gave me in public,
When, behind closed doors,
We were just strangers to your truth.
Everyone thought we were one_
Until you shattered the illusion.
We were only “friends” in front of strangers.
Why trade my innocence for your satisfaction?
Should I curse the day our shoulders brushed?
Should I throw acid at the fragrance I gave you?
Why did you lie about the love you gave?
Were you scared I’d reject you?
If you only sought my friendship?
But now, I’m waking up.
I cast my shades and mask into the flames,
Draping myself in a love that heals,
That gives me everything.
This year is an eye-opener for me.
These words I call poetry
Are the first steps to my joy.
Your love will never find a home
In my heart again,
No matter how brightly you try to glow.
Don’t love the idea of me anymore
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 7:54 AM UTC
Melt the lump rising in your muscle.
Burst the pulse swelling in your mind.
Take a ride to the haven in your veins.
Carve pottery from the remnants of your ashes.
I understand the pain that stings your abdomen when you hustle.
I know how much those harsh periods confined you.
Your eyeballs screamed out the stigma found in your stains—
colors that made rainbows when they flashed.
It wasn’t your fault.
I know the stains may shame you,
but believe me—you won’t die.
Don’t lose the fight to that material you can’t afford.
There are days coming when your body will leave this cave of ignorance.
There is a solution that will change the game.
There is something called antibiotics that will dry your tears.
This red fluid is called menstrual discharge.
It isn’t an illness.
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC
In her gut,
Was bitterness she chewed.
Hidden between her eyes,
Were scars that made her vexed.
She bore thoughts,
She nurtured them—deadly.
At the verge of her hatred,
She murdered her conscience,
Slaughtering the ghost
That killed her mind space.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 8:45 AM UTC
We are called to walk in the Spirit,
yet a nameless grip keeps steering our feet astray.
That’s when we go searching for willpower
for dominion over the sights before our eyes
and the thoughts we let rise in our minds.
We may think we’re always right
but if that were true,
every person would claim the bench of Chief Justice,
or worse, the throne of Chief Lawless.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 2:24 PM UTC
Casting my yarns of many colors in turns,
Hoping my yearning earns what I thirst for.
The fire took advantage—
Burnt fiercely, feeding on my resentment like hay.
Painful hatred made me its subject,
Letting fear delay the beat of my heart.
Through the flame, I saw only bloodshot reflections—
A version of me I barely recognized.
My nose flared, carrying anger down the walkway,
While deception dressed as truth passed by.
Why does the light shine on my shadowed scars?
Why does my retina reflect a bloodied knife?
Why can’t I sleep with my eyes closed
When even the sun can rest?
Am I healing, or dying?
Even if it’s only an echo
That dares to beat a drum and whisper healing—
Let it speak.
Maybe then, the vengeful color in my pupils
Will soften into something human again.
I just need one voice to reach deep,
To say:
“Your scars are proof you healed.”
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 3:18 PM UTC
CHAINS
I was stuck in the jungle
Being ******* like Pringles
Watched all day and night by hidden an eagle
I cannot even mumble.
I was bonded with chains
Shivering in pains
I am not able to wash stains off
That unleashed scars that cannot be erased
Respect, dignity and virginity
was all lost with intense atrocity
The atmosphere was filled with tears from wavering souls
All our virtue, they stole.
Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 3:33 AM UTC