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 Nov 2024 Hamzah
kacey
i think i’m in love with you but you can’t know that.
you sit across from me on the floor, legs crossed.
soft smoke fills the air as you tighten your grip around the pillow.
you shove your face in and groan.
‘is this about the girl again?’ i ask.
you lift your eyes to meet mine, desperation.
‘i can’t help it, i think i like her now,’ you say.
and in that moment, your hand pierces through my body.
as you rip a small piece of my heart out.
yet your bloodied hands look green,
and every ounce of hatred i should have for you disappears into the air,
as thin as the smoke that lingered.
 Nov 2024 Hamzah
unknown
anger
 Nov 2024 Hamzah
unknown
anger rises like a storm within,
a fire fierce, beneath the skin.
but pause and breathe, let the moment fade,
for peace is found where wrath is laid.

hold the flame, let patience grow,
in silent strength, let mercy show.
the storm will pass, the heart will mend,
for losing one's temper is wisdom's end.
sometimes, the moment catches up to your emotions and everything goes haywire, that’s why staying calm matters. imagine it from the perspective of a teenager whose emotions have soared like the towering mountains on mars. anger can burn as fiercely as fire, that’s why they say, “don’t let the spark control the flame.” don’t let the moment fool you, don’t let others fool you. no one holds your emotions but you, especially anger. don’t let them get to you. if they try, find a place of quiet, somewhere where you can just be, without pressure because the more crowded it gets, the closer you are to losing control. if you can’t find a place to hide, take out a piece of paper and write down EVERYTHING you’re feeling, pour it all onto the paper, don’t leave out anything. and the key to this is to do it right after the moment, because once the moment is gone, your consciousness returns, and with it, your awareness. if you’re scared someone will find the paper, burn it; if not, keep it hidden somewhere safe.

for as long as i can remember, i’ve struggled with my anger. people around me seem to despise me for it, but they don’t know how hard i try. when i break, it’s not just one branch that snaps, it’s the whole tree that comes crashing down. they don’t know what goes on inside me, and thank god for that.

i get where they’re coming from, but that doesn’t make it easier. i do my best, but sometimes the moment still catches up with me, and afterward, i feel terrible. the cycle just repeats itself, and if i don’t get a grip on it, it’ll only spiral.
 Nov 2024 Hamzah
Ceeba
Leaf
 Nov 2024 Hamzah
Ceeba
There are two types of people,
The wind and the leaf,
Guess which one am I...

I'm being blown in all different directions by this wind called life,
Destined to wilt and fall on the ground.

But I guess we're all leaves after all.
We start of as a bud, unfurling into a vibrant green leaf.
As seasons change, we turn to brilliant shades of red, orange, or yellow, before falling to the ground.

But the difference is there are those who live like the wind and those who are like me.
Who only get to rest when there's no wind,
Get peace when there's no wind,
Be in control when there's no wind,
But that's like saying when there's no wind, there's no life.
When there's no life, I'll live.
Uhm...so yeah, please don't get any ideas upon reading this. This is just how I'm feeling
 Oct 2024 Hamzah
Gene
Untitled
 Oct 2024 Hamzah
Gene
I.
This is just another bad poem
Just vomited-thoughts-left-on-paper poem
This is a collection of grammatical errors
This would surely make my English teacher cringe
But no worries, I didn’t write this for her

II.
This bad poem is for you

May my subject and verb disagreement
remind you of all those misunderstandings that lead to raised voices
and nights where I cried myself to sleep

Sentence construction was never my strength, it still isn’t, maybe that’s why you never truly understood me—
called me difficult and bipolar
You said that I was too much

Did it ever occur to you that you might just misread me, like homonyms,
same words but with different meanings
misread my jealousy with accusations,
my concern for excessive affection

You said that I loved you too much
but darling, did you even love me at all?

Did I put too much meaning on your words,
turned them into similes and metaphors?
Turned your literal statements into figures of speech
You told me that you liked me,
so I blissfully interpreted it as a hyperbolic expression— called it love when obviously it wasn’t

III.
I was never good at using punctuations
I put too much commas,
unnecessary, misused, I kept trying to hold on
Afraid of the inevitable end,

Switched to semi-colons in an attempt to make it a few words longer

Because despite all our grammatical errors
no matter how shameful our piece of literature was to the English language

It was beautiful to the untrained eye,
To those who read poetry as it is
To those who don’t dig deep in search of true meaning behind the metaphors
It was beautiful to me

But I eventually learned that infinitives and infinities are different,
in spite of sharing infinite as the root word
Like our love,

started with something so promising
but unlike most novels,
there’s no happy ending

So I accepted defeat,
accepted the inevitable and bitter end
No more committing the same mistakes over and over again,
the same words over and over again,

Accepted the fact that synonyms existed,
words with the same meaning but also entirely different
new and unfamiliar, foreign and peculiar

IV.
I accepted defeat
No more commas or semi-colons
We have reached the couplet of our free formed sonnet—

I was never good with endings, I don’t think I’ll ever be,
So darling I hand you the pen, set us both free.
061016 / 6:36 pm

— The End —