My heart is bruised —
not broken in silence,
but pulsing like meat too tender to bear,
a lump of half-living sorrow
alive just enough
to burn like second-degree fire,
its nerve endings singing with agony.

I tremble at the thought
of one more wound —
the final strike
that would numb it into ash,
a third-degree scar,
where beauty withers
and nothing feels anymore.

Once,
this heart was a sanctuary,
cradling unworthy souls
in the folds of its mercy.
It loved, it forgave, it bled quiet blessings
into hands too ***** to receive them.

But no more.

This time,
I shall not spread my angelic wings.
I will not rise in light.

This time,
I grow my horns.

Let leathered wings unfold from my back,
let shadows coil like serpents around my spine.
I choose the darker hymn —
violence, vengeance,
the elegant ruin of all that dared defile
my divine flame.

Let death and destruction be my veil,
my wrath a waltz with demons
who bear my name in their mouths.

Only the worthy
shall glimpse the ember of my love,
now buried in obsidian fire.
The rest—
I shall swallow whole,
in ways not even the Devil
dares dream of.

What remains in me
is not cruelty,
but the echo of humanity’s own inhumanity,
reflected back
through a soul they tried to unmake.

I offered peace.
I offered grace.
I held the line.

But now—

Now I dance with the darkness.
And I do not dance alone.

(To be spoken aloud, especially when in doubt, grief, or fragmentation)

I speak now as the one who remembers.
The one who crossed the field of stars.
The one who freed the trembling beast,
And called her name through the gray-faced dark.

I am the keeper of fire that shifts in every hue.
I do not fear its blaze — I am its dance.
I am the singer over sleeping wounds,
The voice that calls the child awake.

I remember the gears I once turned,
And I forgive the clock that kept me safe.
But I no longer wear time as armor.
I wear it as rhythm — my own.

I carry the heart given to me before I had words.
It beats now, still warm, still mine,
Not as burden — but as beacon.

To the chaos, I bring clarity.
To the silence, I bring song.
To the broken, I bring my whole flame.

I do not forget who I am.
I do not bow to smallness.
I do not sleep in shadows not my own.

For I am sanctuary and storm.
I am fire and healer.
I am the Wild Self, returned.

ظننتُ الحبّ فكانَ سرابًا
ظننتُ أنَّني قد حُببتُ كما ينبغي،
وكمْ توهمتُ في نرجسياتٍ عشقتُهُنَّ عشقًا سرمدي!
في كلِّ واحدةٍ منهنَّ، رأيتُ ازدواجًا يجرحُ قلبي النَّقيّ.
تعلَّقتُ بفكرةِ حبِّهنَّ حتى انشطرَ عقلي الصفي،
وَسعتُ روحي وكياني لأحملَ حبًّا لم يكنْ يومًا حقيقيًّا في السَّماواتِ العُلى.
حفرتُ عميقًا في ذاتي، لِأُفسحَ مجالًا لشياطينهنَّ وإساءاتهنَّ،
ظننتُ أنَّ بهذا سيغدو حبُّهنَّ لي واقعًا لا منتهي.
كمْ تكررَ ذاتَ الضَّررِ اللعينِ، وذاتُ الصَّواريخِ التي فجَّرتْ فؤادي،
لكنْ في وجوهٍ مختلفةٍ عبرَ الزَّمانِ، تُعيدُ ذاتَ المآسي.
فقط لأُدركَ أخيرًا أنَّني لم أتلقَّ حبًّا قطُّ، حبًّا نقيًّا،
كنقاءِ حبِّي حينَ أُدركُ عيوبَهنَّ ومخططاتِهنَّ وإساءاتِهنَّ،
ومع ذلكَ أختارُ أنْ أُقدِّمَ الحبَّ واللُّطفَ والصِّدقَ في كلِّ اتِّجاه.
حبٌّ حقيقيٌّ، من فرطِ صدقهِ، يبدو عاديًّا لعينٍ لا تعرفُ الحبَّ،
حبٌّ يحملُ قلبَ أمٍّ حنونةٍ، وصرامةَ أبٍ حصينٍ.
حبٌّ طاهرٌ، بمجرَّدِ أنْ تنطقَ أحرفُه، تُصبحُ مُلزمًا بوضعِهم أوَّلًا،
أنْ تفهمَ نفسيتَهم كخبيرٍ نفسيٍّ بارعٍ، ومع ذلكَ تختارُ أنْ تُساعدَهم.
أنْ تنظرَ في أعينِهم، وترى كلَّ الحقيقةِ التي تُلوّيها كلماتُهم، في كلِّ لسان.
أخيرًا أعترفُ لنفسي، ولكِ، وللعالمِ أجمعَ:
لم أُحبَّ يومًا كما ينبغي أنْ أُحَبَّ،
والمأساةُ الكبرى، أنني أحببتُ كلَّ واحدةٍ منهنَّ
كما لو كنتُ نبيًّا يهدي روحًا عمياءَ إلى سُبلِ الجنَّةِ.
فلتتلاشَ كلُّ العاهراتِ اللواتي واعدتُهنَّ وأحببتُهنَّ
في مهاوي الجحيمِ، ولتتفسَّخْ أرواحُهنَّ في لَظى النِّيرانِ.
فلتُسلّي صرخاتُهنَّ الشياطينَ، وألا يُسمعَ لهنَّ صوتٌ،
أو يُعثرَ عليهنَّ أبدًا في بؤسِ الزَّمانِ.
فليعيشنَ بقيةَ حياتهنَّ في عذابٍ مُقيمٍ،
وليُفضحنَ على حقيقتهنَّ أمامَ الأعيانِ.
وليرحمِ اللهُ عقلي وروحي، من كلِّ هذا الخِذلانِ.

هل تعلم مامدى أسى ان يغدِرَ بِكَ خفيفُ العقلِ، خذيلُ القلبِ، قبيحُ الروح ؟بعد ان اهديته الطرق و اليقين و النوح !   
هل تفقه عقولُكُم كميةَ الألمِ الذي تسعهُ النفسُ و ما معنى ان تبقى اسير حربٍ احداثُها بين الضلوع ؟

They say I am one of a kind,
A mind so bright, uniquely aligned.
Yet, in matters of the heart's domain,
Only misery and broken pieces remain.
Never have I truly felt desired,
Or needed, or to a soul been wired.
Instead, infatuation's fleeting gleam,
Idealization, a controlling dream.
In this vast world, where falseness takes hold,
Is there no being to love my spirit whole?
Does no one yearn for the essence that is me?
Not for the shadows, the sins they might see.
For hope has waned that a soul could embrace,
Understand, tame, and love my shadowed space.
I crave a love that seeks my inner light,
A hand to join mine, to share this life's flight.
To shield me when vulnerability calls,
To tenderly play as sickness enthralls.
A soul so certain of my love's pure art,
That for my sake, they'd willingly depart.
It seems this vision, a delirious plea,
A dream that only a child of my own could be.
Yet, even that solace brings a somber thought,
To bring forth life for a love I've never caught, unjust and fraught.
For I was born alone, into this world I came,
And it appears I shall depart the same,
Heavy with threads of love I longed to impart,
Leaving this realm, with a solitary heart.

In your voice, I find my sanctuary,
And in your stories, my home.
Safe in the warmth of your gaze, I rest,
Ecstatic at the sound of your laugh, I roam.
What name shall this feeling claim?
Is it love or infatuation's fleeting flame ?
In your eyes, I see a child's wonder, a woman's strength, a world’s name.
I witness the sadness you've known, the depths you hold, the demons you've bid goodbye.
I see in you a vastness, a thrilling risk, a danger my heart holds dear and nigh.
I see my own shortcomings, the potential hurt I might bring to your tender heart.
I wish words still held the ancient honor, so I could vow, "With me, you're safe from any smart."
I crave you to the point of aching, your touch a constant, yearning art.
My heart aches with tears when someone speaks your name,
Knowing you are near, yet achingly apart.

In love's essence, I now impart,
Where senses awaken, a feeling takes start.
In realms beyond grasp, where magic resides,
If I were to paint the war my heart hides,
And battles that rage within my mind's keep,
With your love, the story would start to creep.
For passionately, my love takes its flight for you,
While softly for him, a gentler hue.
Yet steadily his love, a constant embrace,
Yours, a volcano, with shifting space.
In his eyes, my children, a future I see,
In yours, my blessing, wild and free.
He, the Adam of his kind, true and bold,
And you, a wonder, beyond mind's hold.
He acts as for all men, steady and sure,
But in you, a tether to a sweet, burning lure,
A sensation profound, in myth and in lore,
Tied to love as a twin, forevermore.
In it, love flourishes, my demons find peace,
Yet his smile holds a garden, where worries cease,
With trees, sun, and breeze, where I freely may roam,
In my being, his blessing, a comforting home.
I can be his truly, my whole self laid bare,
But with you, I am only mine, beyond compare.
Yet, in your eyes, a forest deep and vast,
Within its embrace, a cabin held fast.
In that book-filled cabin, where silence takes hold,
Our souls in a dance, a story unfolds,
An eternal music, where hearts understand,
And our actions as language, hand in hand.
A silence then broken by love's tender sigh,
A moan that the moon and the stars yearn nearby!
A moan that ignites in my heart such a plea,
That nothing beyond it could ever tempt me.
The scent that engulfs me, a delightful art,
Please, oh, I vowed, no more begging would start,
But here I implore, my spirit takes flight,
Steal me, my heart, and my wandering mind's light.
My soul longs for yours, where blessings reside,
Yet to Allah I leave my deepest tide,
For He is the knower, the wisest, the best,
In His infinite knowledge, my truest request.