Light the fire and pour the gasoline
Then let the ash follows the wind
To release the anchor of the world
That stuck on my back since forever

Light the fire and pour the gasoline
Let the memories fly to the astral realm
But my grip was never firm
And I still collecting dust ever since

Light the fire and pour the gasoline
Then put them back together with glue
Hide my feelings, and erase all the clue
Shut the noise from your heart when it's screaming

Light the fire and pour the gasoline
And use the flames to clean your sins
Or let your self be in the spiral of depression
Then fall and drown in the oceans

I sat with my grief long enough
To be at peace with her
Asked her how she came to live with me
She replies with a simple answer
I am the product of your lovely heart
The heart that allowed itself to be touched,broken and mended.
I asked if she would leave soon
She replied, so as long as love lies inside,
I will also be.

I sat with my pain , who looked wrung out and bled profusely
I offered a cloth to stop the bleeding
But she refused to take it, said she didn’t want to heal
I then proceeded to ask her why she stayed
She starts to cry aloud and shows me her wounds
When I looked carefully I saw that they were bind with heaps of memories and guilt
I slowly took a deep breath and untangled the rusted chains of guilt one by one
The beads of memories were tightly wrapped between the chains
It took me a thousand tries to untangle the mess
But when I finally did, my pain stopped bleeding . She took a breath of relief and thanked me for it
The next morning she left and replaced herself with wisdom

I also sat with my insecurities
We sipped a cup of warm chamomile
When it was all calm, I began to ask her
How and why she became a part of me
She looked afraid and shaken for a while
Then she whispered and told me
It was because the world had distorted my own perception of myself, that she was born and grew to be a part of me
I did not want to kick her out so harshly, lest she be filled with more fear
So I gave her a pat on the hand and kissed her gently
Told her she need not grow any longer
And asked her to become my best friend
I was no longer ashamed to be with her nor was she with me,
And this is how I found a home inside myself.

i wouldn't say i'm the jealous type
i would say i'm a writer
no one's muse
admiring from afar
hugging walls like close friends
more familiar with the architecture
of disappointing myself
than laughing with others

i wouldn't say i'm the jealous type
i would say i'm a work in progress
withheld on a canvas
half-finished strokes
vibrant in places that matter
dull smudges in spaces
unsure where to go next
traffic jams in my cerebral
creator and destroyer

i wouldn't say i'm the jealous type
i would say i'm an artist
expressing myself in ways
that others can't quite comprehend
but speak volumes of my soul
through more than
[words]
phrases things pronouns
breathing is painful
without creating
[controlling]
emotion
becoming vulnerable
in a comfort zone
people don't understand
[me]
stepping outside of my art
is painful and draining

i wouldn't say i'm the jealous type
i would say i'm ******* tired

A fancy tuxedo and a black leather glove for each hand, could this be Patrick Bateman? or punk in a band?
no, it's Digital Man.
Yes a real man, with a screen head of course, would you look at him this strangely if he was a horse?.
He just goes about his day, and people judge and take pictures of him in each and every way.
He just wants to be treated like everyone else, and not put on display like some little mouse.
Why is society so blind and judgemental and cannot see, that I'm just like him and he's just like me?

A story of a boy
Adolescent, flowering glass heart, surrounded by stone
Green-eyed misery that stayed in the back of my mind
When I didn't want him to
He was like that;
It only takes one kiss
From his tender lips:
The forest-eyed catastrophe engulfs you whole
Those emerald daggers sink into your throat
Trailing painfully down into the pit of your stomach
Then slither back up into your lungs,
At last, sinking your heart all the way down to the ground
The Earth-eyed nightmare seeps into your skin
Writhing its roots into your veins
Living there forever
Digging its branches into your bloodstream

Taking him out would tear you apart.

I don't know anymore .
Who to believe who to not .
I just don't feel like me anymore .
I don't .
- Adaa Sayed

I saw her .
But she never told me .
I loved her .
She said the same thing .
My mother .
She was .
Made slave by someone ,
I loved to call dad .
One night with a knife ,
I saw her .
Perhaps that was the last of her .
That knife was used to **** her .
She didn't **** herself .
She didn't run for help .
Because she stood there for me .