Hour, minutes, seconds fade,  
Years have passed, the price is paid.  
Yet every thought, each memory bright,  
Becomes my answer—"I'm alright."

I built my walls, stayed strong, stayed true,  
Waiting, hoping—all for you.
But time has shown, it’s all in vain,  
No more playing through the pain.  

Your promises—just fleeting air,  
I held on tight, but you weren’t there.  
I longed for love, for something new,  
Yet all I got was less of you.

Here I stand, my heart undone,  
Reaching out, but you have run.  
Now I'm empty, lost, confined,  
Drowning deep in what’s behind.

Let’s go back before it starts,  
Before the war, the bombs, the shattered hearts.  

Before the time when peace was bright,  
Palestine stood in golden light.  
Then strangers came, seeking space,  
And Palestinians gave with grace.  

All was well—till greed crept in,  
A slow betrayal, a growing sin.  
One by one, they claimed the land,  
Till war was forced by their own hand.  

Have you ever thanked the ones  
Who sheltered you beneath their sun?  
But kindness was not what you sought,  
Only power—only "mine" was taught.  

You took their homes, you took their lives,  
Yet still, their prayers rise and rise.  
You paint the land in black and red,  
But judgment waits for what lies ahead.  

They hold a place in paradise,  
While fire awaits your sacrifice.  
You chase the world that fades so fast,  
While they seek peace that ever lasts.  

We pray to God to grant their plea,  
For justice, truth, and dignity.  
Go ahead—do as you will,  
But history speaks, and time stands still.

It started long ago, a tale of pain,  
Where hunger struck and hope was slain.  
The people cried, their voices weak,  
Yet none would rise, nor dare to speak.  

Bombs fell fast, both day and night,  
Turning homes to dust in flight.  
They pushed them back, they closed them in,  
Yet bodies stacked—such grievous sin.  

They killed the young, the old, the wise,  
As prayers rose to darkened skies.  
We watched the news, our minds enraged,  
A world in flames, a war engaged.  

But this is not where stories end,  
We rise, we fight, we won’t pretend.  
Through front lines fierce, we stand, we go,  
With fire and fury—strike the foe.

Is it me, or is it my ears,  
That keep hearing sounds so near?  
A pounding, a drilling,  
Like gears that keep spinning.  

I couldn’t stop,  
Nothing could,  
I melt, I break—  
I wish I would.  

With all the juice,  
I freeze, I sneeze.  
With all the germs,  
I ooze, I wheeze.  

Yuck,  
Stuck,  
This *****.  

Who would have thought this would start?  
Truth be told, this is no gold,  
Nor silver, nor bronze—  
Just stories retold.  

Hush—my voice, keep it down,  
It hurts inside, the things I drown.  

Stomp,  
Punch—  
What is this?  
The feelings I have, within.  

Full of rage, full of fire,  
This place no longer feels entire.  

Stop!  
I yell,  
I scream—  
This must not tear between.

I found my peace, but it was brief,  
I thought it would stay, bring relief.  
Day by day, night by night,  
I suffocate beneath this fright.  

I washed away what left me torn,  
Through my pain, I bore and mourned.  
I’m no player—I’m a victim,  
Yet it still hurts, for I have feelings.  

Through the pain, both flesh and mind,  
I endure, though I’m confined.  
I brush it off until it’s gone,  
Yet scars remain, etched upon.  

I kept it quiet, held it in,  
So no one saw the war within.  
Voices echo, sharp and cruel,  
Scheming shadows, mocking fools.  

I say, "Be silent!"—they only jeer,  
Where did they come from? Why are they here?  
Still, I fight, though I am trying,  
To wear a face that hides the dying.

No one needs to know what I’ve been through—  
My thoughts, my needs, my likes, my deeds.  
I race ahead, as fast as I can,  
Running far, as long as I stand.  

I feel like sinking, yet my world keeps spinning,  
Through hopeless times, I fight the feeling.  
I take a breath—deep, steady, slow—  
Only to drown in the undertow.  

I reach, I grasp, I fight for air,  
Struggling hard, but caught in despair.  
I shout, I scream—I beg for aid,  
Yet find myself in the trap I made.

I wear my face, a mask of stone,  
A quiet facade in the world alone.  
But inside, a symphony plays its part,  
The clash of chaos, the whispers of heart.  

The voices rise, the tides they turn,  
Emotions flicker, steady to burn.  
To let them out—what price to pay?  
Will they take the light of day away?  

Unstable, yes, but not undone,  
A prism reflecting more than one.  
Each shard of doubt, each twist of pain,  
Adds depth to the self I can’t explain.  

Don’t fear the dark—it shapes the hue,  
The hidden parts are also you.  
For every shadow, there’s a grace,  
A fragile beauty in this space.