It was always a torture opening up in front of other human beings… Potential judges, weapons… which you feed with your own trust till they use it against you.
Pencils and papers were always my friends. Silent, open, blank, unbiased, and always on my side. Sometimes they even let me weep over them and smudge their pretty pages in ink and tears…
They never spoke a word against me. Never in my favour either really, but they let me fill them with my self. What could be a better commitment than to allow a human to completely fill you up…?
These pencils wrote a quadrillion words to express my pain and these pages absorbed ’em all like they were it’s own.
But then I stopped.
I found a person similar to that. I filled him and filled him with lots of love. I filled him till there was no more space to fill. He absorbed my pain just like the pages of my diary did. And he let me cry on him too. He did more in fact. He wiped those tears away for me.
But human beings are deadly weapons. They operate by choice and mood of their own.
All you have to do is load them up with your trust and your secrets. Tell them your flaws and your mistakes. Tell them your regrets and the truth about yourself and wait to see how the gamble turns out. More often than not they will shoot it all back together at you when you will be least expecting it.
They’re the revolver and your trust, the bullets. Tell them all your secrets and fill them with your trust and it will be the same as loading up a gun with bullets. Tell them more and more till there’s no space to fill them anymore and they’ll be a wholly loaded gun pointing right at you.
Now smile and say I trust you.
Soon after you’ll hear screams and find the paramedics collecting your traces off the ground.
I’m waiting now
Waiting to hear my sweet melody
The sound of their voice
The sound of their heart beat
Or the sounds that they make
In the innocence of their sleep
But there’s no melody any more
No heavenly sound of their presence
Just dead silence
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I’m too invested in things more beautiful than poetry
So I’m trying
I’m getting requests to continue
And I don’t wanna refuse
I know the magic words can do
So I wanna continue
But about what
And where do I start
The weather’s nice
It rained today
Like the tears that I shed yesterday
But the rain is mercy
Unlike my pain
So I know I’ve healed
I felt happy
And I took my parrot out to the balcony
And he screeched and sang from excitement
And that was my heart.
Happy and joyful
Dancing inside from joy
I don’t get why people use umbrellas during such beautiful weather
It’s ungrateful and idiotic
Especially for people in Kuwait
I can’t believe they could be so dumb
After months of being roasted under the scorching Kuwaiti sun
You’d think people would cherish this beautiful weather
And drops of sweet water from the heavens
And the weather’s gift to the people of Kuwait
And they have the nerve to be so ungrateful
With umbrellas over their heads
And pacing speedily out from under the sky
So desperate to get inside
They don’t cherish it when they get it
And yet they complain all year round about how much they would love if Kuwait was breezy and cool
We live in a world where people who don’t have time
To cherish and enjoy the things they asked for all year round
What a strange world…