I think you’ll find a girl who exhales answers instead of a never-ending stream of questions, one whose hands aren’t always ink-stained, one whose heart doesn’t live in her throat, one whose demons are small enough to be tucked into the back of her closet, sealed in a box, only let out once or twice a year when she’s drunk off of cheap wine, a girl who doesn’t feel like her head is going to explode every day, who doesn’t dream about the kitchen knives. You’ll find a girl who doesn’t write poems for you, but that’s okay because she smiles all the time and there is always light in her eyes, never a thunderstorm.
I will try not to blame you when you find this girl because now that I know what a horrible place my own mind is, I could never ask someone else to want to stay there too.

I shouldn't polish my words before I speak

Not me shamelessly stealing posts of other channels🤦🏽‍♀

You tolerate ugliness, beatings of children and rape of women, cursing and blaming, domestic violence, racism, tolerance of Politics, America, your sectarianism, government corruption, you tolerate child marriage, with everything!
You tolerate the nonsense of the whole world but you do not tolerate a poem!

Sometimes people exist just for you to have a good time with and then move on from. And once you can accept that, it makes everything a lot easier, because a lot of happiness stems from managing expectations. The reason we get hurt so much is because we have a good time with someone and then we obsess waiting for them to text us, wanting to see them again, stalking them, picturing our life with them and then when we find out they don’t want exactly what we do, we’re crushed. But really, they don’t owe us a future or anything at all, they don’t even owe us a text the next day. And I’ve come to accept that sometimes a good time can just be a good time, without the promise of a future, and that’s fine.

What if I can't make peace with it not having a future?

ቢከብድም ቀኑ
ፈተናው በአለም...ላይቻል የለም🖤

Tired of my heavy coat of sadness, I want to rush to the wilds of forgetfulness, free from everything.

Wounds heal into scars, but the scars grow with us.

‍I run slow, like the last drop of water that fell, and is late for the torrent. I will not arrive. Some of me will be in space. Some of me will drown in the ground.

I lost chunks of me, and the pieces accompanying me are exhausted, my pieces are wasted. Even if I arrive, nothing from me will arrive. I steam. How then am I going to bring back someone who's melted?
Shouldn't I supposed to rather arrive to myself?

Not a new work but here is the first writing I ever wrote called "us.our own inferno".🖤go easy on me

It seemed as if we were battling our own demons,fighting our own battles that didn't seem to have an end ...too bad we couldn't survive them together .too bad we were dancing with our own devils when we could have thrown them a party and set them off with a bomb.but instead we sung tequila like we were childhood friends.It haunted me day and night.what we were.what we could have been.we almost had it all.The thought of us killed me.sometimes I would like to think that the things we are going through is just a hardship we are meant to pass to have a breakthrough. But what If it isnt .what if we weren't meant to be with each other.what if we were just too wrong for eachother.what if we are just cursed souls dragging our self into more and more fire.you may think I am a troubled person to suddenly think of this...but I really saw some type of darkness in me and you...maybe we are the root of us turning into ashes...its our blood...from time to time it just got thicker and thicker...until we felt numb..
-scary how one can get stronger behind keyboards-

-Yeab T🌬