Left alone in the dark.

Left to be eaten by the shark.

Should I stay here?

I should I disappear?


If I'll be forgotten forever,

might as well sleep whenever.

No one will remember me.

So just leave me be.


No one will remember who I was.

Their memory of me will all be fuzz.

But it's fine for my I guess.

Because I am a big mess.


So I'll be forgotten. It's okay.

Guess they'll forget me when I'm far away.

Lost in the dark, I used to be happy.
My friends have moved on, I have been abandoned.
I'm lost, and I have been forgotten.

I ache for my friends, but to them, I meant little.
I feel too much, I'm too emotional.
I get filled with rage, but I'm not an angry person.

Only when I realized this, I realized that I'm better off forgotten.

Back in the same state,
Same town,
Same roads,
Same memories.
Yet an emptiness lays on every busy corner without you there.
The coffee shop stands waiting for you,
For us,
And I sit there in the comfort of the shop, waiting for you.
And after all this time,
You finally come.
But only to runaway.
But tell me love,
If you met my eyes
Would you remember why you loved me once?
Would you then stand at the door like you once use to?

No matter how many oceans I drown in,
No matter how many times the wind
takes my breath

I can't stop wondering where time
finds an end
I close my eyes, hoping,
to see a better world
but with so much anger,
so much hate,
It seems darkness is the only escape

Whatever happen to the light
Whatever happen to love
Its suddenly gone
Its been forgotten

Have we buried our peace
Have we lost our ways
What will become of our children
What will become of their future

Whatever happen to the light
When will we surrender,
So that our souls can be free

Deception feeds on ignorance in every lane,
Missiles are wrong symphonies in Ukraine.

The world won't rise with the cries of a thousand,
Corruption sneaks into the bones in Thailand.

Humans and bodies are wars' cheapest lance,
The riots take back stolen rights in France.

Starvation is stronger than the dignity of men,
Begging for food is integrity, in Yemen.

Moms paid, with their children, the fees.
Souls taken, are countless in greece.

There, living in an empty land is the plan,
Women, children and men, murdered, for power, in Sudan.

"Spending eternity in peace, is a ban",
Told the people, between Armenia and Azerbaijan.

Depravity spreading in man like Ameba,
A losing game of change played in Cuba.

Billions of harassment cases, you bet,
Are, will be reserved in god's eyes in Egypt.

Buried her father, brother and,
desire of existence, dear Haya,
She, and millions another, in fenced Libya.

In the name of religion, crimes covered, disgracefully,
Chastity thrown, in land of churches, the Vatican City.

Shattered wood under a phloem,
Are the confused inhabitants of oriental Jerusalem.

Too many sects, invading the minds, anon,
Conflicts will split the one entity of Lebanon.

Washing souls with lies of worship, is a key
Says the elected president of Turkey.

To be served, pure blood awaits in the line.
It rains glory and sacrifice upon Palestine.

To regain true reality, they had to wham,
Under snow, through fog, numbed rain, in Vietnam.

Lost a thousands of years worth of legacy,
Guns are the rulers in Damascus city.

The words are not the same anymore,
wrapped in meanings that are concepts far
beyond my eyes, that fall upon my lips,
empty and bitter and fading.

My poems are like foreign aspects of my life now,
disappearing under my finger tips without further
notice, kneaded into the paper under my palms
and leaving me slowly, dreadfully, painfully.

Who am I now, that my voice has waned?
That the moon on my tongue no longer revolves,
with the earth and the sun, left trap in a desolate darkness
filled with brighter supernovas, and wanton galaxies.

Who am I now?
That the thread of my being has frayed,
and slipped, and weaved, through the contours of the universe,
as I slip easily through the cracks without being chased;
without being noticed (and I regret and regret, and regret, because I wish that they had).

Who are we, now that I'm gone,
and that you've gone with another? That you've followed
in their footsteps, left me, with one foot entering my grave?
With a rough necklace dangling across my collar? With silver lining your eyes, and with an exuberance that comes with letting go?

What are we now, that my poems no longer hold the essence of me,
as it remains to long for you? What are we, that we no longer hold what was once dear for us? What are we now, that the physical form of who I am remains to fade alongside your death? What are we, when all that remains of our past selves are gone?

Who are you?

Today I put on that perfume
And it hit me
With a memory forgotten;
Sunken at the bottom of the almost empty bottle.
“Mhm, wow you smell so good. What perfume is that?” You had asked.
I’d been over the moon waxing outside. You had tickled my insides.
So when I’d spritzed that on my neck and inhaled that scent and that memory…
I was glad.
Glad that the bottle was finished.
Glad that there was nothing left to remind me of that moment,
Glad that as I tossed the bottle into the trash, I had, in turn, trashed the memory.
The memory sunken at the bottom of that perfume bottle.