Artwork, Poetry

Deceived By Looks

Every time you’d written me off with

You don’t look depressed

I felt like a ballerina

Seemingly dancing painlessly

on chipped nails and broken toes,

enlightening spectators

Effortlessly tiptoeing

on crumbling bones and bursting muscles

Serene and calm on the face as I plié

on bleeding heels

— Heba

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Poetry

Sorrow

O’ how I yearn to rob the skies of its stars and give it to thee

To restore these eyes of a long lost gleam

What must you have witnessed

What must you have seen

Take my hand love, let us flee

To the meadows and settle by the stream

— Heba

This artwork was inspired by Charles Bukowski’s ‘bluebird’ poem

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Uncategorized

Why I write, how it began 

Life is but poetry

be the script as literary

as can be….

This blog does not necessarily follow standard poetry format or contain rhymes for that matter.
May you find humour in the subtle rebellion.
I resorted to writing as a means of catharsis when my depression began seriously eating at me at a tender age. Hence some content – intended to explain pain and brain damage through firsthand experience – may come off grim. But as I continued to write, these desperate hands began to scribble words of empowerment. This brought about a great deal of healing.

Going from a morbidly depressed girl to an empowered lady was a self-finding journey. Thus, mightier than sword, the pen’s been a close companion ever since.

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