As soon as the southwest monsoon flows over the air there was an occurrence of a vague loneliness I cannot explain. The moisture-laden wind carries with it a painful sensation I do not even want to go back to. The climax of the summer heat is almost over and the season was telling me June […]
Written by Jacob Ibrag There used to be a world that lived in my mind which I used to visit when I’d close my eyes. As the months gave birth to years, it became increasingly harder to remember how to get there. Upon the final day of my arrival, all that was left were tired trees […]
Written by Jacob Ibrag She reminisced on how her sister used to listen with intent, and how she always reacted to her stories with compassion. ‘Why couldn’t have I reciprocated? Why couldn’t I have listened to her voice when she needed it?’ Photographer Unknown
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Life is not everything, a shadow of me, exists out there somewhere in the sea. Breath is not everything, a slight tense, is making the waking dream come sense. Light is not everything, the new dark comes, for the lonely soul who think he has won. Dark is not everything, light burns the night away […]
As I sit alone in the darkness, I hear the faint noise of water It drips and runs around me, calming me with its soothing sound This quick poem was inspired by Elena from Clash of Tides. When she was stuck in the cave alone, she was scared, but the sounds of water calmed her […]
Where does she go when her home isn’t her home? I am worried about her. This girl whom I love so much. I am worried that her home would one day turn into a dungeon where she would be tortured by the people whom she should’ve loved but couldn’t love because these people whom […]
Written by Jacob Ibrag I don’t strive to be different. Those who desperately swim against the current usually find themselves out of breath and lack the will to break free above the surface. Think snowflakes, short lifespans carrying unique purpose. Each inherently obsolete and exclusive. No identity crisis, no contempt for each others progressions. Rare and perfect in their imperfections. I don’t care about […]
I never feel more alone than when I hear their muffled voices of happiness and I’m locked inside my room of solitude Wishing that I could make it all stop. The voices The noise The laughter And mostly the pain ~N
Honesty is not seen as it should be anymore, it is not seen as a wholesome noble act of justice, and not even measured and scaled properly or ensured or indeed insured. In its place is an insatiable quest for a luxurious life style that guides a preference scale of needless priorities.
Only the human conscience has the most taming influence on the excesses of people.
TAMING AS THE CONSCIENCE
With this thought comes the word
That a taught mind does afford.
From the heart’s thrust for action,
The spirit reveals its intention.
Creeping up guts and spines
Of the anguished, as he pines.
The real is seen not as before,
For requests never ever bore.
One thoughtless act or yet
Another rehearsed and so wet,
Could afterwards be active
And securely hold any captive.
Days go by written with them,
Hours pass mindless also then.
As minutes and their seconds
Of their pain’s mocking bonds.