No. You're Wrong.

I wish upon you that your shoelaces always feel the same, perfect amount of tightness and that one shoe is never tighter than the other

Untitled 15/7/24

Writing and rewriting the same lines,

Over and over again,

Thinking, That’s awful, this is awful, why can’t you write something good for once.

For once? Something good for once?

If it’s as awful as you’re saying it is,

Why do(es) literally everybody you know who you show it to,

And even people you “know” superficially via social media and one shared interest,

Praise it constantly?

And why do even the most unpolished of first drafts receive that same praise?

Maybe you’re actually a decent author & poet?

Ever think of that?

-oaks

the absolute truth .

Words cannot express the absolute rage I feel when I think I’m getting better and it all comes crashing down again.

Love Between Lines

-

Growing up,

I found getting lost in books

Was the best way to survive.

All sorts of stories,

Where someone is saved,

And happily ever after is never explained.

Paper cuts and the smell of cigarettes,

Separating fact from fiction.

I think now on how you grew up,

Parallel alongside me.

How I'd come to accept that while books

Imitated life,

There would be no savior,

No happily ever after for someone

Like me.

You existed outside of my realm of knowledge,

A lightning strike for a smile

And beautiful-

Like the heroes from the storybooks.

Do you like mint with chocolate?

I had asked,

And you hesitated with lightning.

Honesty, honesty, honesty.

Such simple questions to unravel my worldview,

To find there was a story being written about me all along-

Just within you.

Depends on the context,

You laughed.

But yes, I do.

I do too.

I do too.

x

It's unfair that she is suffering

and i am taken care of.

a beautiful broken promise.

Promise.

The word is forced to contain secrets.

But, what if?

what if a person runs out of promises?

when there are too many to keep and there is too much inside?

when all the promises she broke hurts her?

when each and every promise she broke, haunts her, every night, till the end ?

when the broken promises, like broken glass, tears her apart from inside?

until she bleeds. bleeds to death.

too tired to make another promise.

It's probably my fault.

Mine.

I assumed that I had that right on you.

On us.

lost in soulless city

Hello 👋, My name is Momen Al Madhoun / I am a digital artist /a father of two children " Ezzdeen & Amir " I live in Gaza City in the heart of the Genocide, working tirelessly to amplify my voice to the world through my artwork.

I want to say thank you a lot. Your donations helped me improve our displacement conditions. But my family still needs your contributions to keep going We rely on you, you are our hope for survival.

🌟 Our campaign is vetted by 🇵🇸 @/gazavetters List at #291

Gofundme Campaign Link

passion.

it's supposed to be the burning flame,

the light that guides you forward,

the torch that lits the way.

but

sometimes,

the flame reduces to nothing but a spark.

and

the light seems so far that all you see is darkness.

and sometimes,

the torch burns a bit too much,

leaving us all in burned pieces.

~K