I lost myself between the folds of a fairy tale
Enchanted, embedded beneath a deep scale,
Seven years old ,I was a  little girl with pony tail
So excited as  a happy duck learning how to sail,
Holding my mom's hand so tightly trying not to fail ...

We went for shopping in that happy spring day
Enjoying the gentle breeze in that month of may,
So curious was me to follow a colorful butterfly
As i jumped and crossed over  the street ,
A peculiar oddness  spread in a hasty heart beat ...

Suddenly my heart felt a weird ache
Once I saw no mother's hand to take ,
I felt a mysterious melancholy stretching all over my veins
As I muttered "mom!" with jumbled voice and teary eyes ,

There was no one to hear my call but a gentle guy ,
As he  took my hand and comforted me with a cheerful smile
Calling me :"oh ! dear princess ,don't cry it's all about a crossing mile",

I drunk a bittersweet cup of water mingled with my salty tears ,
Waiting in his coffee shop for minutes which seemed like years..
Long I stood there , Deep drowning in my dark  fears

My mom's heart was earnestly sunk in her keenest frustration
For she lost her luster  of soul and  glimpse of inspiration ..
She tried her best to find this lost playful doll,
She asked  a police man who didn't care at all ,

She got over her fears and followed her heart
Which alluded her to that coffee shop standing apart;
Finding her little girl watching her favorite cartoon,
While she sent a warm hug with a shivering heart so soon ...

Our both hearts melted ardently with rapturous happiness
For we restored our souls with loving cheerful radiance ...

So grateful was mom's esteem for my savior dear gentle man
He was a my charming hero who  kept me as safe as he can ...


It was as delicate as a butterfly's wing
And as menacing as a knife in the dark ...
Still lingers in our memory immersing deepest feelings,
Thanking Allah  for the delightful rescue and healing ...

Voices in my head,
            wanting to be heard.
            but even in the midst
            of my insanity,
            still,
            *I choose you.

I gave you my heart
and when you left, you gave it back.
(carefully; you tried not to break it.)
you did it so that I could give it
to someone else but my god, I wish
you'd kept it. (it remembers you
like worn-out furniture, it remembers
your shape, and no one else could fit
that way.)

////March 20 2014 /////
Fainting spells
are more common
when I'm trying
to memorize how
****** got into power
Sighing is more
common
when I'm trying
to learn the
art of polynomials
crying is more
common when I have
two tests tomorrow
and I still need
to start that essay
that was given
yesterday
madness is when
I have to understand
that my sadness
is a genetic disposition
I could never control
Disappointment is more
common when I have
to yet again cancel
the plans I made
with my friends
But still
even
after a week of doing
this ****
the only thing
I learned
is that knowledge
isn't found in
a textbook
and a power point
presentation

Isn't it odd.
People keep secrets.
A thousand envelopes.
Shut tight by two thousand signets.
Don't let them get out.
What a shame if they do.
We're afraid of people
Judging
Laughing.
Looking like a fool.
The funny thing is.
No matter who,
There are things people hide
From those near to them too.
Acceptance.
That's the word.
By word I mean world.
No soprano singing of a little girl.
You think she would sing if she chose it?
The problem here lies is that I'm a poet,
And no one I care about seems know it.