I will always remember you, too.
You must be so beautiful in autumn,
You, with your golden brown smile
and clear blue laughter.
Someday, I will hear it again, and I will listen
with my heart as your fingers glide across continents.

You are so much more than a pair of green eyes.
Your heart is golden but sometimes your thoughts dull its shine.
It might take some rain and maybe even a thunderstorm, but I promise you,
It will be worth far more than the pain
to see you
see for the first time.
And you are nearing that day.

Dear my urborn
I don't know if you would
be my daughter or my son
right now am in a point of
no return,trying to pay
attention without refund


I cant promise to win,
life is short I should
be writing my will


am writing my
wrongs,they are
trying to peep
I will make sure
mama is queen

you will be a blue
blood you will never
work in vein
you will be a blue
blood you will never
work in vain

it's true talk your dad
is insane because I
choose to be different
from those that are
the same

yours sincerely Gidi .Q

write as if you have something to say
because you do

write as if the sky wasn't blue and every day is as upside down as the next
write in colors then write in black and white

write to me
write to those who need it the most, even if they won't admit it

write about your dreams and hopes for the future
and watch them come alive before your very eyes

as you write whatever thought comes out of your head
though it may sound like gibberish

write because you can
it is your freedom

write novels that span pages upon pages bound together by leather or
some short words

write as if he didn't break your heart
and then write as if he did to piece it back together

write to unlock doors and open minds
write to make others and, more importantly, yourself aware

write because you will see
you will see your ideas trickle down into your fingertips and out your pen

onto a tangible and real medium that you may look back on one day
and remember why you started writing in the first place

write to make sense of what doesn't
in hopes that, one day, it'll be more than just in writing

write and fold it into a creaseless paper plane
let it fly and, boy, enjoy seeing where it takes you

then write to: home on one of those rectangular postcards
document every day and its little details

write it all down
and then live it all out

you told me that you were
just playing it safe,
careful to keep your perfectly powdered face from grime
and getting dirt under your manicured nails.
you try to maintain that posture with poise and grace,
while others break their backs and crawl
on the ground on their knees and bellies.

you told me 
that you are playing nice.
you said that you are loving, caring, kind, and generous
and all those pretty qualities.
that's true,
but 
one glance at your eyes 
is enough to know fully that 
you are also
fearful and terrified.
you are a coward:
a prisoner of pride
playing god as you place your trust on yourself.
taunted by questions of  rejection, ability, and sufficiency,
you cowered in your high tower
instead of joining the frontlines in the fight.
frozen by fear
your heart has gone too numb and cold, for
the doubt and anxiety has put out your fire.

you said that you have won it all.
but actually, 
you know nothing.
nothing!
about triumph and victory 
for though the world has plunged into calamity,
you were never one with the army.
your bright eyes has seen death
but only from the sidelines.
you defile the purpose of your armor
by keeping it perfectly polished
when it is meant to be stained by mud and blood.

you told me that you were just playing it smart.
you said that it's only rational, logical, 
the normal human response
to take every measure to avoid pain and harm.
you behold the chaos
and cry 
"they are fools!"
and
you are 
perfectly
right.
they made themselves
into proud and shameless fools
for they know well that 
the fools are the ones chosen to shame the wise.

darling, 
just
stop
playing it nice, safe, an smart
for this is not a game,
this is 
war.
strip off the crown and ball gown and
pick up your sword and armor.
from your high tower,
run
to the mountains and fields
to the homes and cities
run
to the trenches and frontlines.
for it's either you lose your self or lose the fight

soldier,
warrior,
get ready to pour out sweat, tears, 
and even blood.
though you have yet to see
still,
claim victory:
the war has already been won
before it has even begun.

*it is
done.

It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.