I believe in you. And you should believe in you, too. Believing in yourself is tough. It’s no easy feat But with my help We’ll get you there in a heartbeat. Learn to love yourself, first And if worst comes to worst Know that I love you, too. And I always do. I love you. So love yourself, for me. Together we can be happy We can make history! But first, you need to love yourself Find that love within yourself And when you d...
They are Destiny’s children. We had no say in the matter. Children of Destiny are called for at birth To die, before their time And move on to a better place. Because they were not our children Twenty of them did not belong to this Earth They were not ours. They were God’s, if you believe in God Or they were Fate’s. But they were not ours. Sometimes, our lives are long And we work hard for a death in peace But sometimes,...
Once there was a beautiful princess named Ijlal. She had hair the color of dates, and eyes as blue as the sea, eyes that were so captivating she had thousands of suitors falling at her feet every day. She had the most renowned kings and princes begging for her hand, she was the envy of all women, near and far. But it was not enough for her. She was always bored, constantly seeking ways to entertain herself, she never stop...
It’s working, working every day There’s truly no time to play Algebra at three And SATs at five Its no wonder geniuses don’t have lives. Your brain functions great, better so Than those who you’d like to know They awe you and shun you And are jealous of your smarts: But what they don’t realize is the pain inside your heart. Alone every day You can’t get away More sums, more problems And writing too: The hard work of life...
I stand in the line with my parents and sister, a line that stretches farther than my eye can see. Literally. I can barely make out the security desks at the front of the lines, but they are processing people like some sort of printer. The people are blank sheets, then the man behind the machine stamps their customs forms, and they come out with fresh ink on their worn and weary faces. I also cannot see because of my heig...
EXTRACT FROM DIARY OF INDIGO Sept. 31st I have always wanted to be a writer. Always. Maybe even since the day I was born, at least since I was three. I love writing, pulling my new pen across the paper, a smell of promise in the air. Ideas come to me rapidly and sometimes I just have to jot them down. Countless textbooks have been defaced because of these notes. My mother and father don’t think writing is an acceptable jo...
“Hello? Hello?” “Yes, Mom?” “Darling, I’m going to need your help for a little while – Hello?” “Yes, I’m here.” “Now Jessie, how do I connect the do-hickey to the thingy-mcbob again?” “I’m sorry?” “You know, that black wire thing and the white thing?” “You mean the extension cable and the router?” “Isn’t that what I said?” “No, you said –” “Never mind what I said. So how do you do it?” “You take the plug – are you holding...
The rushing stream The lemon tree Woods that reveal What I can see They’re gone now. The cold pool Where I used to play When the sun shone Day after day It’s gone now. That garden where I used to hide A place so hard to breach Sometimes even I felt It was impossible to reach. It’s gone now. The sounds of the country The fresh morning air The chilly winters The summers without care They're gone now. But I hold one thing T...
We walked the lonely street Our feet keeping the beat Of a song not sung, of a word not said I walked in front, yet you led. We traveled over grass, pavement, and sea Swam the mighty channel in 1963 There was always something left to do Something left for me and for you. Time passed slowly, then quickly, then too fast Ah, how I wished those times could last When you and I were still one One being running under the sun. Bu...
Night fell almost immediately, the dark skies grounding into each other to create an eerie calm that effectively silenced the town. The air was heavy and humid with the scent of an approaching storm. In the blackness, a man scuttled out from an alley, his pupils enhanced by the soft light of the moon. He clutched a cloth bag in his hand that gave off the scent of leaves that had never seen the light of day. He took a deep...
The scent of grass The sound of birds The quiet whisper Of unspoken words The silent speeches The vanished yells The cold and the frostOf deep black wells Nothing is said here There is nothing to say And silence grows Day after day The sight of children Cold and dead The noise of hatred Born and bred The frosted trees Of a forever fog The dark gray color Of thick smog Death approaches swift The air is full of fear Terror...
