Dancing with Death



They lived in fear,

They had in the past be a target of their nation


Children of their nation,

Killed and tortured,

By those meant to protect them


Seeds of their nation,

Called looters and hooligans to justify their killings


Those meant to keep them safe,

Kept quiet,

Those who talked,



Those who tried,

Were intimidated


Those that fought on,

Were silenced


They watched as some of their brothers,

Danced to the rhythm of their death,

Just because they spoke a different tongue



Wounded forever,

They lost their fathers,

Their friends,

Their siblings,

They even lost their children


Their truth was denied,

Only they know what it was like to face death,

Then being blamed for bringing it on themselves through lies and propaganda


They were lied to when they were told that they were children of their nation,

They wait for the end of their torment while they live in fear,

They have memories that will always be scars in their hearts,

Yet they fear that this may not be the end,

All they do is pray that there will not be a next time,

All they have to hold on to is their faith









No tears,

No emotions



Standing still,

Occasional smiling,

Frequent hiding


She had built herself,

And broke down her walls


But all those who came running in,

Were simply the wrong kind of people


They told her she was worthless,

They avoided her like a diseases,

And they only needed her,

When they needed someone to look down upon and to despise,

They taught her to hate herself,

And she accepted it


She tried to be strong,

But deep down she knows,

The strength she tries to show,

Is a mask for depression,

That she thinks will be her ruin


She wants to fight,

Yet she asks herself,

‘How many times,

Will I have to say,

I’ll put on a fight,

Just one more time’




She was once a tiny plant,

With flowers blooming


As she grew,

She got trampled and stepped on,

Weeds grew around her,

She stopped getting her sunlight and water,

She had stones and cement thrown around her


With time she grew weaker,

And lay down looking like she had died,

Deep inside,

She felt like it was over


But with time,

Her little portion of sunlight,

The little water she got,

Made her fight just a little


Before she knew it,

She was up,

She started to rise again


She once was a flower that could only grow in soil,

But she now learnt how to maneuver and grow between stones


His life was all about chains and darkness,

He walked over a bridge that took him to a forest and burnt it down after he crossed it,


He embraced so much negativity,

He made no light shine from within him


He ran deeper into his forest,

Every time he believed someone was close to finding him


He did not want anyone holding his hands,

He did not want anything that would shine a light,

He believed that he was not worth it


He got himself tied with shackles of self hate,

He embraced the darkness until it became his normal

What Would He Say


Image by FullRizqi from Shutterstock https://goo.gl/5zPejy

When the thoughts about cutting herself or hurting herself started coming back to her, Jane knew that something was wrong.

‘Damn! Not this again!’ she thought to herself.

She laid on her back on her bed, one that she hated, and tried to cry, but she couldn’t it. Days earlier, she had thought about the last time she cried yet she couldn’t quite remember.

The last time she had tried to cry was in 2012, it was supposed to be the worst day of her life, yet she could not shed a tear. Since that day she was never able to. Since that day she also withdrew herself. She learnt to build her walls high, when someone broke them down, she would with time push them out and build them higher.

She lay in her bed thinking that something must have been wrong with her for having not cried in her times of need and despair. Years ago, all her days had been defined by tears. She had been bullied for so long, and she tried to get over it, but she did not. Instead, she started to hurt herself and the permanent solutions to end things she seemed to look for never worked.

She knew it was all over, until he came into her life. The boy that years before had taught her to keep it to herself when she had feelings for someone. She remembered well why; Jane had mentioned to her ‘friend’ that she had a crush on him, Kyle. The friend went and told everyone in their class. He found out, and he said some mean things, he was embarrassed that the freak had a crush on him.

Years later, they started talking, and ironically, he became a cure to her depression and her feelings of harm. He taught her what love was. He told her that she was beautiful… a word that had become foreign to her. He was the only person who saw right through her just by looking at her. He was the only person, who knew how she felt by the first word she said when they spoke through the phone. He was the only person who could see right behind that fake smile she wore everyday. He was the only one who noticed how good she had learnt to hold her tears. Then after many years, he just walked away.

Yet today Jane wished that Kyle could be here for her. She could not have held up all the pain she had inside. She could have let out all those tears she had held back for five years.

At this very moment she felt like a failure. She wasn’t able to get a job. She felt like the most stupid person on the face of the earth. The confidence she had built over the years had been shattered within months like broken china. She read, she listened to music, she read books, she talked to people, yet it never helped. Confidence was a work of art she needed to re-build and she knew that it took ages to do this.

Jane was certain that if Kyle was here, he would have the right words, he would have helped when she began to crumble into pieces. But he had left, she had let him leave, she had not fought. He was the person she thought about every single night, his memories were the reason she would stay awake in the middle of the night. One night she wished she could forget him, like he was never in her life, until she realized that without him images of her childhood would be nothing but darkness.

She held out her hand into the clear air, wishing that his were there to hold hers, knowing too well they were not. Then she tried to convince herself to think about what what Kyle would have told her when she felt like her life was a nightmare. Deep down inside she knew it did not matter, especially because he was not there. His memories were all she had, hope was all she held on to, hoping that one day they could meet, talk about why they grew apart, and forgive each other.



Tomboy in Doll Shoes

Picture this, a group of around ten ladies, seating at a table, slowly eating their lunch. They are talking, the topics keep chaning, from family, to food to fashion. They stop at fashion, after one simply says, ‘I’m a tomboy’, from a statement someone had made.

Now, these ladies have their differences, and for some reason, they rarely agree to disagree.

‘You are not!’ quickly utters one of the ladies in disgust. Things are starting to get awkward in the group, you can see the faces of the others already knowing which side they’ll take.

‘You are in doll shoes and lipstick and nailpolish,’ she says, ‘tomboys don’t dress like that.’

At this point one is probably wondering what a tomboy dresses like. The challenger is in jeans, converse shoes and a t-shirt.

‘My dressing doesn’t say much about whether I am a tomboy or not, besides I like nail polish and lipstick, I believe my personality is the indicator here,’ the other lady saids defending herself in a soft spoken voice.

‘Really,’ the challenger says rolling her eyes.

The other girl keeps quiet so as to avoid any confrontation.

The challenger still wants a challenge.

‘You can’t say you are a tomboy! You have to ‘dress like a boy’ and ‘act like a boy”.

Everyone keeps quiet probably thinking how the conversation has gotten stereotipical.

There is tension in the air until one of the girls asks the rest if there have seen some funny video as she lifts up her phone.