It starts small.
A thought.

Then it grows.
It turns into actions.
Malice.
Not to others but to yourself.

The lines start small,
Almost to faint to notice.

Then , they grow.
They begin to deepen,
In hopes of drowning out the pain.
The pain of everyday life.

They hurt,
But not as much as your heart does.

It starts small,
As a thought.
But as it grows,
As it struggles to keep up with your flooding emotions.
It begins to strangle you.
The thoughts begin to hurt.
They scream;
Hear us
Hear us
, but what if We don’t want to hear them.

The thoughts that start those lines.
The thoughts that starve us.
The thoughts that deprive us of living a fufilled life.

Hear us.
See us.
They scream.

dripping decadent words
laced with poison
down the throats
of her lovers

she watched as their fantasies
became their nightmares
and laughed
while they screamed

.
Arabic :
لكنّني أخشى فقط أن أغضب.
أن يتراكم الغضب إلى أن يصل إلى حلقي فلا أصرخ، ولا أبكي، ولا أشكي، و لكن أبتسم ككاذبة.