Greatness doesn’t always come by doing great things. Greatness is in having the strength and the endurance to do small things, house chores, smiling at strangers, getting out of your house after five days, listening to an old song and being able to groove.  It is the small things that are great for me for I am too small for great things.

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Unconcealed

Don’t. Stop.
Don’t look for impressive words and striking phrases in the internet and your thesaurus.
Extend the lengths of your fingers, dip them in the oceanic depths, pierce the walls of the chambers of your heart and collect the blood in your cupped palms. Pour it on the grainy, warn surface of the paper, let it flow and glow on its own. Don’t try to control its movement, don’t try to make it beautiful. Let it be horrendous, let it be raw, let it be true. Let it enrage the reader. Let it inspire and make the reader cry. Let it be true. Let it be you.

Insomnia

No matter

How much I crave it

The blackness will come to me

Only when it has to.

The dark emptiness

Void of thought, of pain

Seems inviting.

I close my eyes

And surrender my mind to

The deep well of nothingness.

The vacuum force pulls me in,

Its cold arms enveloping my nakedness.

The night empowers me

And I’m gone, gone, almost.
No.

Hope

I am just a confused girl
Who is sure about you
I am nothing great
Grace in a bad state.

What a terrible mess
Brimming forgetfullness
But like a beautiful dream
I remember you.

I remember you
As the wind that brushes my hair
The leaf that descends from a beautiful tree
The rain that falls on my face

How I hope it is you.

Quiescent

Silence has become my sword.

It has.
A part of my heart has, reluctantly, tried numerous times to let the feelings flow and segue into words. My heart has tried many times, but in vain.

I am many persons inside.

I want to speak. My throat constricts with all the words my heart craves to speak. The glass walls of my mind are clouded with all the broken words that I want to say. The glass can only take so much. One more unsaid word, the glass will splinter. One more unsaid phrase, I will fall to he floor.

I want silence to fold me in its vastness just as sepals of a flower enfold its petals. I want my voice to falter and then die inside myself so the last scream of pain that escapes my mouth is reincarnated as echoes ricocheting off the walls of my heart. I don’t want to utter one word.