my heart’s so fragile;
i’m afraid to give it away,

all that’s left of me is
a sarcastic personality,
and even that is
starting to fade.

i am the uneven eyeliner on the face of life

Here’s to the feelings that flow
through my veins,

here’s to the love whose trip
was a lot of pain,

here’s to the days
where I am in vain,

and here’s to your heart
that I cant seem to obtain.

gold in your hair,
denim on floor,
mistakes in bed,
bathing in each
other’s cologne,
i trace the freckles
on your back,
no more time to
talk, time has
hopped on a Cadillac,
purple becomes
my new skin tone,
one seal breaks
and now im in the
lost virtues zone,
my name becomes
your only vocab,
shortly after
I had it unwrap.

Those days,
in the mornings,
I stay longer in bed.

Just gazing ,at the ceiling,
Trying to , forget
Those nights.
;I'm unable to dream.

Just over thinking,
to the point,  I fail to
silence my thoughts,
and my eyelids are denying sleep.

Those times,
I feel extraneously not exisiting,
I stand still , watching everything,
fall into place, nor fall apart
unaware* that time is still going,
and I'm just s t u c k.

in; This world,
I have gone underestimated.
Told I should go in others' path.

That my faith isn't good enough,
that I am too weak, too weak,                                                     @DemaaMu
that for my own sake,
I should listen, to their commands.

But I can never go any other way than the path I am destined to go on .

So I just lay in bed;
sick of pretending, someone I am not,
sick of people changing my identity,        

And in this life, in this world in those times in those days and nights,
I have gone, **unknown.

Me, the world, and stupid people .

It's good to miss you,
routines make me get bored easily,
and boy have you failed at being consistent!

I'm just worried,
do you even miss me too?
If this becomes the routine,
then what do I even get out of it all?

it's so hard for me
to open up,
but once i do,
i can't stop,
and people don't mind
stepping all over me,
so i build yet another wall
around me,
and opening up becomes
a mission not even Tom Cruise can make possible.

Embrace me with a smile,
embrace me with a hug.

Embrace me with your prescence,
and i'll embrace you ,
with the memories we had,
before the last time we had embraced goodbye.

It takes a year,
for the pain to leave my veins,
for the memories of you to fade,
for the cuts in my soul to heal,
for the rhythm of my heart to change when I’m around you,
to forget your touch on my mind,
to forgive the universe for meeting you,
to live life like you and me had never happened.

I am not what you have made out of me in your head at 2 am when you were thinking about the very specific way I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm not a fact that states that I'm a very expressive person. Trust me when I say you don't want to know how I would express my thoughts of you, so don't try to define my lines when they aren't very clear, not even to me.

The silence, becomes too unusual without having you around.

the first time
our lips met
didn't feel foreign,
it was as if
you were my home
country
and I had only just
entered your land,
then took a taste of the berry tree
which my greatest grandma had grew,
in either ways;
she would be
******.

The first breath I take
becomes the very first choice I make

Grey sky,
black branches cracking through,
wet grass,
broken bench,
green in your eyes
and sparks in my heart.

I am so sorry for wanting this,
but what's so wrong about wanting it anyways?

I told you that you should always be
thankful, things are getting
better, the process
is just rather slow,

and I told you that the proof lies
in the fact that you still have some
sanity left today,
if things weren't getting better,
then what else
could you be holding onto?

I wish I can go back home,
borrow a blanket from the living
room that was once filled with
me and my cousins' dancing,

gather four ****** from the street,
the same street I used to steal flowers from,
that now steals people's blood and lives,

borrow a branch or two from the berry tree
that my mom used to make juice out of
and give to our neighbours,
they only reside in my head now,

build a tent in my parents' backyard,
the same backyard where
I held my 6th birthday party at,
that birthday had to end early as
there was a more important event happening;

the Americans were bombing
the area I used to run so free in,
with all of my friends,
whom I never got to say goodbye to,
never get to see how puberty hit them,
or even know if they're still alive today,

today,
I live under a stable roof,
I run away from the thought of home,
because it kills me that
I left the land that once
gave birth to me,
kept me warm,
warmer than I would personally like,
once.

uninvited,
the tears stroll down my cheeks,

unintended,
the words come out all wrong,

underrated,
as your perspective of me isn’t my reality,

under construction,
is the fight against my tears,

understand,
that there is strength in vulnerability,

unravel,
your tears from their cells
and let go of the custody of pain.

i wake up
distressed,
unable to
shake the
fear away
that lingers
in my head,
but i don’t
face the
nightmare,
I just lay
in bed.

You make me
sad,

he makes you
sad

and that still
makes me
sad,

what is going
on here?

You gift me gold,
bringing back old habits,
remember though that
I never aimed for the stars
nor the way they shine,

I wear the gold around my neck,
with no sparkles in my eyes,
wishing it was silver instead,

you see;
gold bends and stretches,
but silver reflects and deflects,
it can handle reality,
even when things heat up.

I looked
at my heart
asking it,

how is it possible
that I can love again?

and my heart's
only response
was a beat,

turns out that
all along
I had been breaking
because I was still alive,
my body was fighting
for me,
even when it felt
like I was dying.

When I write, I am in my own world. An entire different world.
Putting this world into words to bring it to vitality , where the true me indepth exists.

My thoughts are my enemies, and overthinking is my best companion , joining along with my soul that ignited the two different worlds , as the world inside my head and the world where my unfortunate reality lays , are connected in those writings of mine.

Once I hold my pen, it seems like I could write endlessly for eternity.
The intellectual me is raging for more and more vitality , it's deeply intricate where my thoughts and those worlds meet.

But my thoughts are the biggest cravers for their freedom. And there, in my mind , I live and in words and letters , I expose my true inner self.

I think I love
with every cell of my being,
with every drop of soul in me,
with every breath that visits my lungs,
with every fingerprint I’ve ever left,
with every laugh that parted my lips,
with every language my tongue pronounces,
with every way I know how to love,
with everything, yet I end up with nothing..

Remember when we first met?
                  I wish we could meet again for the first time.

close your eyes
and feel the sea
watch the water
turn blue, green and teal,
let the wind take the lead,
breathe in the sun,
don’t let your sins bleed,
exhale out all the deadlines,
and shine.

We were on a road trip , on our way to meet the cousins of my father for the first time. I couldnt help but be curious about how they looked like. What they were like.  Year by year I'd discover more family members that I never knew about.

"Mom, they lived in Basrah?"

"Yes , they had."

"Huh..Basrah" I said sarcastically.

"Are they good people?" I asked.

"Yes they are, why wouldnt they be?" She said with a confused look in her eyes.

"When was the last time you saw them?" I asked, not ignoring her question quite much.

"Years ago." I was still confused because she did not number the years.

"How come I didnt meet them when i went to basrah with dad 2 years ago ?" I asked.

"Last time I had seen them myself was before we came to this country." She said.

"8 years." As I realized.

"I dont think so mom. People of iraq changed. A lot. From my latest visit." And perhaps the last visit it would be, I thought.

"Trust me on this dear." "Their father is as elegant and as royal as the head of ministry. He used to manage the biggest hotel in Iraq before he had retired." She said.

Suddenly the old images of iraq flashed in my head, and along came the current image of iraq, The comparison in my head between how great iraq used to be, how rich and beautiful the land Basrah was and how it is all gone. No admiration left, it's all an intricate matter.

The stories I hear about Iraq and the wars and the people of iraq, are close to infinity if you saw the destruction that occurred. The beautiful past, is all we have.

Sometimes, I feel like home doesnt even exist.
"Iraq". Those four letters , it's like thy dont mean anything to me anymore.
A home is a place that holds you, that keeps you warm. When did iraq ever hold me? Other than holding me backwards not forward. Other than leaving the poor cold and the rich hungry too. Where did all the blessings go? Where are the beautiful green lands? The River Tigris and Euphrates ? Helicobacter ?

It's hard to IMAGINE a country with such power, such good , such greatness , such grandeur,  magnificence, fall. But it's even harder, to WATCH it fall , and having nothing in your hands to do about it.

Such blessings, that got destroyed , on the hands of those who envied it once. The enemies destroyed the only thing that I had to believe was home.

"You know mom.. Sometimes I hate Iraq."
"Why?"
"Because it ruined our lives."

Silence filled the car for a couple of moments before anyone spoke. It was true, Iraq did  destroy us along. Iraq ruined our lives and everywhere we went our identiy was exposed but not lived by others. We once had a wealthy country, now the country is dying and the people are shattered. Mother knew it was true, even more than me, because i was just a child who couldnt remember and didnt live half the events mom had to go through. She witnessed it all.


"No one can hate their country dear, it is still your country."

It was true too, wherever I shall go, I will make my country proud, and not just a maybe, one day,Iraq will rise again, and I will have enough faith in my country that it will.
My country is not destroyed, my country lives peacefully in my heart. The people may ruin it, but it will always be as great as it used to be in my eyes.

i am the best
version of myself
when i am comfortable
surrounded by my loved ones
and knowing there are no time restrictions

A boy bought me new feelings from Amazon,
I couldn't install them right,
so I gave them a 1-star rating.

delicate
just like
gold flakes,

filled with
an iridescent
sapphire,

so sweet,
honey-glazed donut
instead of a heart,

even a glimpse
of your sunshine

is enough
to keep souls
warm for an entire winter season.

Isn't it weird how one bad comment can overcome several good comments?
Isn't it weird that it's easier to feel bad about yourself than feeling good about yourself?
Isn't it weird how evil can be acomplished faster than the good?
Isnt it weird that we live in such an intricate world, where the negativity always outcomes the positivity, because no good is left, when the bad often lets you down.

Alike charges repel, opposite charges attract. This was our philosophy  in dealing with the atoms in our world. But what about our world? How come all the positivity and the negativity in the world in all of their different forms,  , as they cancel each other, get the world cancelled along?

Stop chasing me,
I see you watching me when I'm waiting at the bus stop,
I feel your presence when I'm preparing my 1 sugar 2 cream coffee,
I know you're with me when I'm counting sheep as I'm falling asleep,
you're there in my nightmares,
your reality is the maze I am trying to escape from.

I keep having dreams of you,
and they're absolute nonsense,
well,
you're absolute nonsense,
please let me be,
leave my dreams be
nonsense, but without you in them.

at this forbidden hour,
Cinderella has to be home,
yet her hands are gently being kissed
as her heart turns into a pumpkin,
ready to be patched in mid March,
she dances with a broken glass heel,
twirls the ticking clock,
making the hour golden.

this year,
i’ve met too many people,
i’ve let go of a lot of these people,
i’ve lost a lot of respect for
so many more,
i’ve given up on others,
not just me, myself and I.

At times,
my heart pumps emotions
that don't belong to me,
that cut deep enough to
make me acknowledge that self-destruction can
never take a form stronger than this.

I can't seem to
remember
how it felt
to spend
243 endless
days with you,

I guess that's
the best example (metaphor)
of dissociation
during trauma.

Am I upset?
No, I don't think so.

I think the best way to describe how I feel towards you right now
is to buy a ******* useless vase, instead of adding it to the rest of your collection of useless stuff down in the basement, use it as a decoration, give it life and purpose and make a pretty flower grow in it, every now and then water it, clean the mess it makes, heck-- even take selfies with it. Next, I want you to unwillingly do the following:
put this vase on an ad on Craig's list, give it for free to someone who is on the same continuum of uselessness. Done? ok, now go break that ******* vase. What? You can't? It's not yours anymore? How does THAT feel? Do you feel upset? Angry? Confused? No, you feel helpless. Well now you know how your friendship feels like and what your friendship means. Not cool. We aren't cool. Don't make me break you, it won't fix you into becoming someone I need.

Grandpa my dear,
a few years when I was younger you'd let me sit on your lap and you would call me cute nicknames.

a few years after when i grew a bit older, you'd get me sweets and we would compare our heights , but you've always been taller.

a few years when i was your height, and we shared the same weight. But oh what a coincidence and i wondered.

I remember the sweets you used to give me, I remember the love you used to provide me.

I remember how I used to hit you in my sleep when i was younger, because I used to move alot in my sleep. ( I still do)

But what I dont remember is, every imagining you ending up like this?

The time has betryaed you and you are no longer as healthy as the young are, and i cant imagine but i can realize, that youve grown weaker. But stronger too, in the same time. Because you are a survivor, and you will stay alive for us, because you are all what's left for us and we're all what's left for you, and i know that one day my kids will get to hear your stories about the life back your time.

honey drips out
of your words
onto my lips,

you melt
all my walls down
and sugar coat
this heart of mine
as you dip me
in your love ♥️

I* wept,
till my eyes were dry,
and I could feel no more.

In a statment of ,
complete numbness,
I layed in bed,
in hours,
for days,
s a d.

I wiped,
away the tears.
And my feelings ,
wouldn't stop ,
reminding me.
And those memories,
wouldn't stop,
chasing me.
And I couldn't just,
let go.

I wish I could gather all your broken pieces ,
and heel the scars that the shatter had left in you.

But here I am, oblivious of how to gather my own wreckage.

I exhaled the last breath,
And i felt like my soul was about to leave.

Because with every breath, the air becomes harder to inhale each time.

I am happy,
But why is that those tears wont stop falling?

It's the right thing,
But why is that it doesn't feel like so?

I am strong,
But why is it that I need to be strong?

I should not feel this way,
But why is it that my feelings have become so bipolar ?

It's bravery,
But why is it that I feel it's an act of fear instead?

I am not oblivion no more,
But why is it that i feel there is much behind every path?

I fear failure,
But why is that I feel that it is a fear of success?

I should enjoy the moment,
But why is it that my brain cant comprehend to happiness no more?

Yet another dream of you,
yet another day that we are breathing the same air,
only difference is my lungs are warm and your heart is cold.
                                        
                       ­                      Wake up *****,
                                                                I tell myself.

Just one message from you, and just one sentence made me this way.

You said "I cant forget our old good days" ,
and you said you didnt want to disturb me anymore.

But sadly , you dont know half the reasons of why I had let you go.

Losing my **** over you is an understatement,
that's something a person like you would do,
not me honey.

woke up
on a decision
that the day is
finally here,

today is the day
I take over this
body of mine,

today I make the decisions,
today I draw the line,
today I live the moment,
today I manifest my
aesthetic into a lifestyle,

today I will act
like the main character
I am in this
story of mine,

and that's that.

“You’re not that weak,
                                  and it’s not that hard.”

“You’re beautiful,
                 but more importantly than that you’re wonderful.”