“You say you don’t care but every time he gets hurt you feel the pain too.”

Aren’t all poets born from tragedy?

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.

I have inherited my fathers rage and my mothers silence. Everyday is a survival. I am a fire burning, just invisible.

Brown daughters are just fragile glass houses always on the verge of shattering.

I believe we all deserve good endings. We were kind people before this world turned us cruel.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

I’ve been so hurt. Just love me enough that my heart heals and all my scars worship your name.

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.

I want to write happy poems on new years. But grief doesn’t have timelines, and it refuses to let go of me.

Without this sadness I wouldn’t even know who I am.

You seem like such a long ago; but you were supposed to be my forever?

I don’t say I know what love is. But whatever it is, you are its every shade.

All the dreams you planted in my eyes, will someday haunt you alive.

Death I believe has many forms. It is a shapeshifter. But amongst all the forms it has, love is my favorite.

Time heals but only when nourished with love. The only possible cure for heart break is to love again.

A healthy mind with a good emotional stamina rises above the influence of past hurt or negativity in the environment.

O aching time! O moments big as years!

Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

Love all. Serve all. Help ever. Hurt never.

As long as you’re not hurting anyone, your choices are your choices.

Forgiving doesn’t make the person who hurt you feel better, it makes you feel better.

You’ve got to let that hurt go baby, It’s only hurting you in the end.

How well you treat the wicked people, they don’t give up their wickedness. They derive pleasure in hurting others. A serpent made to drink milk, it ejects poison only.