“Be yourself,”
But then they tell me to change.
“Be unique,”
But then they frown down on all my differences.
“Don’t conform,”
But then they force me to follow their standards.
“Always love yourself,”
But then they call me narcissist and arrogant.
“Be kind,”
But then they tell me to stop being fake.
“Just relax,”
But then they call me lazy.
“Work harder,”
But then they call me too uptight.
“Money can’t buy happiness,”
But then they laugh at me for not being rich.
“Weight doesn’t matter,”
But then they tell me I’m not skinny enough.
“Enjoy being young while you can,”
But then they tell me to grow up.
“It’s okay to be sad,”
But then they tell me other people have it worse.
“Do what you love,”
But then they tell me I’ll never be successful.
“You’ll be okay,”
But then they leave me for someone else.
“It will get better,”
But then they tell me that I’m being overdramatic.
“Be yourself,”
But I no longer know who that is.

She ran to me.
Broken and hurting.
I held her as she cried.
I promised her that I would always be there.
She was my everything.
And I loved her with all my heart.
But I loved her in silence, because I knew she couldn’t love me until she learned to love herself.
Then she found him.
And soon she didn’t come running to me anymore.
Instead, she would let him hurt her, crying herself to sleep, but going back to him every time.
I won’t break my promise to her though.
I keep my door open, because if she ever did come back, I’d let her in.
I’ll wait.

A photon has no time.
Here and there, instantly.
No distance too, when in the light.
All is one, one is all,
                                     eternally.

You see my brown skin
And assume I'm a ****.

You see my hijab
And assume I'm a terrorist.

You see the smile on my face
And assume I'm happy.

You hear my words
And assume I'm okay.

But I am not.

Instead I am broken.
Yet I am also strong.

I am dark and rule-following.
I am peaceful and Muslim.

You assume based on
Society's POV.

If you smile
You must be happy.

Fox, CNN, any media
Tells you I am a terrorist.
So the names I get called
And the extra security checks
Are extremely upsetting.

The murders of black folk
Is either considered appropriate
Or it's "black on black crime"
So it's not taken seriously.

Who are you gonna believe
Me or those who don't know me?

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived