Heavy headed, you heave and you ho,
powering yourself to move further,
hoping to over step a boundary,
A boundary which you had previously set.
Heavy minded you clash like a titan,
becoming rock, molten and rotten,
Waving your hammer like hands,
round and round,
swinging for a fight,
Steam boats floating, from under your breath,
smoke trailing behind,
a sign of you being there,
an imprint, a point,
a constant reminder,
of the previous destruction,
that we may encounter.
Your God like hands,
reach into the sky,
Ready to grab a star
Abruptly ripping it apart, crumpling it up,
End of life itself,
Hard to fill the giant shoes that have been placed in front of you,
instead, filling those shoes with the things uncompleted
Jobs, Hobbies, Friendships, Romances, Trips or Decisions.
All piling up, one failure at a time,
Expectations, a word so great it shakes me,
shakes me to the core,
deep down, spiraling,
round and round,
Eventually coming to a halt, borrowing within me,
cratering my mind, my brain, tearing me up.
Expectations to me isn’t the definition in the dictionary,
expectation is the word for dying,
dying as in not death,
dying as in destruction,
destruction of confidence,
his or her
rain has come
and washed away,
washed away the mud,
washed away the sand,
washed away the old.
Making new beginnings,
The name you called me, my birth name.
The part of me I hate, the part you made me hate.
The sound of it resonates deep within me, making my skin crawl
Thousand of pulses of electricity exploding through my nervous system,
screaming to be spared by the syllables sounded.
simple but detested.
Mona, a name so ugly it kills me inside.
The ‘Mona’ that comes from you makes me wanna hit you so hard that I have to forgive you.
Mona, My name, My Birth Name.
The name I have come to hate, I hear it in my dreams, walking in the street, listening to music, forever fearing the sound of it.
Even writing it is difficult,
My Birth Name
The Name I have come to Hate.
By Mona Younes
Empty house, which was once your home
Sits alone in the dark with no remaining glow.
Which was once filled with laughter and happy memories,
now an empty shell with windows and doors.
The front door, not a single plant hung, no welcome mat or presence that you would be there once the bell was rung.
Empty house, my old house, what will become of you,
will you be loved and cherished just like I did for you.
Will there be laughter, will there be fun, will there be memories for you to treasure
like Birthdays, Christmas, Weddings and any occasion filled with fun,
Will these be an option once I am gone.
Will you, my house, the last stepping stone, become demolished or maimed graffiti’d or polished.
Will there be new beginnings for you or will these all end with me.
To have to see you Towering, alone, all by yourself, will you feel lonely while nobody is there.
To be examined and explored,
Gone in a second, hand shake, then sold.
My home, My house, No, home, Just house.
I really do wish the best for you.
For you have sheltered me, have watched over me,
have witnessed every part of me.
Now for us to be parted
is, most definitely, the hardest part for me.
You hold all my memories
the good, the bad, and the best
So to you My home, My House, No, Home, Just House
Angelina, WHY? WHY, you make my heart go boom!
if i was to ever try to attempt to smoke a cigarette like that I would probably look daft!
of all the movies that have Barbra Streisand in them, this has to be my favourite!!
Looking upon your face
I realise that time has robbed you of your youth.
Sunken eyes and patchwork skin,
With wrinkled brows, cheeks and mouth.
You who once stood youthful in your prime,
is now stooped and hunched over,
Ailing, pained and distraught
Looking for forgiveness, an answer or thought
that would explain the unfair,
that has been so harshly placed upon you.
Will there ever be a day when you and I
Will be able to go back to a time
that was robbed from us,
where your youthfulness remains
so you can reign supreme once again.