I woke up this morning and my name flashed on T.V.
They said i blew up places , they said i killed masses .
Men , women & children I murdered them all.
Who am I ?
I am a muslim and i am taking this fall.
They used my name and spread the terror.
I am not them , it surely is an error.
We, muslims, are the holders of peace , we spread love.
Why am I being represented by their false actions.
I am a person, with different notions.
World will now brand me a terrorist.
Don't judge me by their actions , I insist.
I am not them, they pilfered my name.
They inflicted libel , and my religion to defame .
I have been robbed , robbed of my name.
I am a muslim , human like you , all the same.
My name has been robbed , my identity stolen
I deprecate the terror and mourn for fallen.
There are millions like me and humanity lies in our depths.
But we are all victims of Identity Theft* ...............
We Muslims condemn the Paris attack.
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*
that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself
i know i do
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans
because in them,
i find myself
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself
I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.
I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.
I am not broken.
But you are.
You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.
I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.
Just like you.
I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
Can only sad people write good poems? Can only broken people find inspiration in anything?
It is my theory
that we are all connected.
From the thread around your finger
to the ribbon on her wrist
and the rope tightened on my neck.
Every action has a consequence,
because when you pull on the string;
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.
As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
The plot always was.
You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.
Although the last sentence
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.
Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.
You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book
Was your favorite story
For Ty & Des ❤️