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🌬

"And I thought to myself...just for one moment I thought..."
"Why fight?"
"Why not just stop?"

"But you fought?"

"No,I didn't "

"The only reason I am here is because the ONES I LOVE DIDN'T GIVE UPON ME."🖤

A thought struck me.a million times again. a thought of you.a thought of me.a thought of a girl that is watering her pillows like somehow  they are garden flowers to be put in her tombstone.a thought of a guy running blade across his once scarless....once flawless body counting the cuts he made and recording them like the marks put all over a warrior after he shed an enemy's blood.i tried to imagine the dirt that got mixed in our ocean.we were once infants,weren't we?little children who went out from our mother's wombs in search of a greater comfort.children who felt safe from the simple touch of our mother's body.babies who thought our father's were the heroes who came out winners beyond everything.what happened to us?was it something that is written long before our soul met our body or did it take a moment....a cursed split of seconds.cause I remember being innocent once.i remember being loved once.i remember being normal.but I also remember myself playing without friends.i remember going from hating Saturdays to hating sundays to hating eachday.i remember struggling to sleep.i remember having nightmares...and I remember not wanting to wake up from them.i went from being a girl with a single secret to a girl with millions of them.scattered from being a "whole" girl with knee bruises to torn wrists to soon body full of bruise. A person I loved once was like that too.NORMAL.he was a worshipper.a hustler.he danced for pleasure like every grown up.he was a living human but dont know what it took I just lost him.on the moments he lit the cigar and put them between his teeth I saw in his eyes that his mere simplicities and complicated perfections have been dashed and divided into cosmos not wanting  to be together again.That's a story of love found and lost.thats my story.your story.ours.my questions have no end but explain this to me once.if the same hands that created galaxies...that created oceans...that crafted the passionate hands of picasso....that structured the minds of Einstein...that same being...those same hands created us then where did we go wrong?what kind of gene manipulation resulted in us?what kind of alliance of damned body and soul made us?which childhood monster have we played with that tamed us to crave hurt to be felt in ourselves and others...what went wrong.i need to know.it may heal to know.......

-Yeab T🌬

It’s just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I sort of feel they’re never coming again, and I’m not really getting all I could out of them.

- This side of paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald

This says what I have been wanting to say this days🖤