Hagar Ahmed

https://twitter.com/hagarahmed

[hagarahmedposts]

waste

What a feeling or another,

to the reality we live.

What a feeling can take

or what a feeling can give.

Would a feeling send

me to my grave

or is it just an

endless wave.

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01:46 AM

Holding the pen. Not sure what words would be written. What roams in the mind. Who says that fish don’t feel lost in the sea. Stray dogs seem to know what they want. We move in circles. From one to another. Never in the same circle but they all look the same, aren’t all circles alike?

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In relationship?!

No

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“In some stories, the protagonist has to kill the bad thing to release its light. In my story, I am the protagonist and the bad thing” -Depression & other magic tricks, Sabrina Benaim 

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Some words never die or fade with time, they only get deeper inside of us that they become part of who we are.

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"A shooting star only lasts a second..But aren't you glad to at least have seen it"  -The disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him (2013)

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Bleak house.

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Dead outside

I heard my own thoughts

Coming from far behind

I did recognize the voice

But my eyes went blind

I thought I lost my sight

In a room that lost its light

I tried to open my mouth

It didn't't feel so right

My heart refused to beat

In a body that lost its heat

I was pinned to the ground

Covered with a white sheet

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“Make the words yours..if your eyes could speak, what would they say?”

-The book thief, Markus Zusak

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Midnight soldier

Refused to be part of his chaos,

Declared his heart a refuge.

Announced his battles a loss,

To a man he denied to be.

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“and the bare heath of life presents no bloom, sweet hope, ethereal balm upon me shed” -To Hope, John Keats

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I want people to know how my eyes see, not how they look. I want people to interpret my thoughts with their own unique ingenuity. I want people to feel my words in a complex corpus of emotions of their own.

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Picasso’s Blue Period, hunger..poverty..and depression. (1901 - 1904)

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We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

To a Skylark, Percy Bysshe Shelley

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The Irish poet.

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“Some people try to hold on to their memories. Others try to forget. Neither works. And after enough time passes by, you find you ain’t the same as you used to be” -The Book of Love (2016)

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Sweet mercy

Black shadows came over me Landed upon my heart Poisoned how can I not be With shallowness on my part

Sweet mercy upon my soul Shielding my open wounds Holding my parts as whole Light to my dreads ‘nd glooms