“My god! this love it will make a fool out of us all.”

I am not what I write but I want to be.

It’s not sad/ that you choose/ to keep yourself in/ its a pity/ that even when you could/ you never decided/ to walk out.

You out of all, have a hand to hold.

Too many of us have grown up just too early.

I don’t want everything to be a destination, where I have to grind and reach, O! how I long for some good to come in my way and let me pick it up.

All this sadness longs to be touched.

I want to know the 2 am you because my love we all are different when we are at war under the sun.

A love that stays will always remain secondary to the one that left, but isn’t it a shame to worship that which left in place off that which stayed.

But the act of holding on speaks to me so much more about a human heart than the courage of letting go ever could.

These poets and their metaphors lied to me/ you never felt like a mountain I wished to climb/ or a stream I would let myself float in/ or a scent I was dying to bottle in/ these poets lie when they talk of love.

Growing flowers on your tongue/ won’t make those lies/ any sweet/ saying that you still/ love me/ won’t make this/ broken trust/ change how it feels.

For once I wanna look back and not sigh.

All my life has been a struggle to know, what to hold on and what to let go, but still, i end up sitting in the corner of the room with a flickering candle, whimpering, naked, shuddering, lost.

The voices in your head are lying, i tell you this world never stopped you from flying.

So, what ruined you? -hope.

There is a wild in you which thrives in places and on days, when, even the sun in you couldn’t survive.

I think it is embarrassing to all of us who truly know the mission of the Refugee Act.

The fan base that I’ve had all these years has come along.

I think the trick with knowledge is to “acquire it, and forget all except the perfume” – because it is noisy and sometimes drowns out one’s own “brain voices”.

Who you truly are is a place of no particular thing, but all things at once.

Tugay is writhing around all over the place as if he were dead

I’ve always argued that this country has benefited immensely from the fact that we draw people from all over the world.

George had taken off all ten of his fingers and tied them into a bundle with what appeared to be either his own small intestines.

All I ever wanted to be was a traveler and explorer.