The World is Ours


They lied when they said “The world is yours”. It isn’t, the world is not mine and neither is it yours.

I don’t know about you but the world I live in does not belong to me. It belongs to politicians, it belongs to Donald Trump. It belongs to judges and lawyers that can be paid off to do great injustice in the cruelest of ways. It belongs to those who hold heavy bucks in their hands, they own the world.

The world belongs to business men and Political parties. It belongs to police men who seem to be blinded when the wealthy break the rules, or maybe their mouths are too full of 100 dollar bills, they can’t even speak.

My world is not blue, for blue is the color of the sky, the sea. And my world can never match that beauty.
My world is not grey, no that’s just the smoke that fills my lungs.
My world is not red, that is the color of all the innocent blood splattered across walls and floors, the blood of the poor. Because they couldn’t afford a trip to the hospital, but no one cares right? I just want my manicure done on time.

And my world can never be black, because that’s the color a man’s worth is based off of. The color that determines whether you’re a saint or a sinner. The color because of which it seems alright to discriminate someone. Because they’re black. And that’s just not right, yeah.

My world can never match the colors of a rainbow because that’s something you need to hide. It doesn’t matter if you’re born that way or if you want to be with whoever makes your heart beat, we said it’s wrong so you can’t make it right. This world belongs to society. And opinions, words that are wrongly shaped and actions that inflict pain.

The world is not yours or mine, it is not theirs, it is ours. So why don’t we join hands, why don’t we become better lawyers, better judges. Why don’t we look past money and what it can buy, why don’t we look at what it can’t buy?

Why don’t we break barriers and mix all the colors together, the blue and white and black and yellow, let’s make our own rainbow. And let’s teach them that we’re better than this, let’s stand together for once let’s built this world up rather than look for one of our own, we have sunlight, we have stars and a solar system, we have skyscrapers and we have airplanes.

Why don’t we have equality? Why don’t we respect? Why don’t we have justice?
Why don’t we have courage? -H

The World is Ours



I was weak, so you played God and pulled my strings. A puppet, merely an object with no value whatsoever.
You stood by me not to watch me succeed and reach new heights, you stood by me waiting for me to fail. So you could once again tower over me, making me shrink to less and less untill I was nothing. Exactly what you wanted me to be.

You see I was never one to have faith in myself. I couldn’t stand tall or smile wide and bright. And it didn’t help my already beaten up hopes when you came along and told me that I wasn’t good enough. You didn’t say it, but when I asked you ” Do you think I can make it” you bit your lip, shook your head and walked away.

Everything is not ment to be” I said. Because I was a robot, following orders, I was no human. You told me that I didn’t believe in love, I was just looking for someone to save me. Push me away from the track I was tied to, the life I was living. I didn’t need morning kisses and goodbye hugs, I needed release. I needed to forget. I needed someone who would save me.

But those were your words, you pushed them into my mouth and then you expected me to say them. But I refused to speak.
Instead I picked up a pen and I wrote the fucking truth. And with every word that landed flawlessly on the paper I felt my heart beating faster. With every line every sentence was a string of emotion, watch that emotion flow from my hand to yours, through your eyes you will see, and in your heart you will feel.

For now I felt alive, I felt the blood run through my veins, I felt the ground beneath my feet and the sky above my head. Here I was somewhere in between, I found my place, it wasn’t the sun or the sea. I didn’t belong with the stars held up in space. I was the one who was falling. A falling star, travelling through time and space. They wished upon me. They looked at me like I was a dream come true.

Maybe I was, maybe I still am. -H


Who Is He? |A Poem


I got the news today,
They said I’d be getting a new roommate.
They said he’d be here in an hour.
I wonder who it is?
I wonder why they chose me?

There is a soft knock on my door,
Is it him?
He walks in and my breath hitches.
It’s him, the boy with poetry in his eyes.

I want to ask him,
Do you write?
Are you like me?
But I just stare at him.

His skin looks so soft,
His hair, brown matching his eyes.
I wonder what it would be like,
Running my hands through it.
My fingers getting cought in his curls.

Him, this boy,
He is the feeling I get when I walk into a used bookstore.
Everything is old, yet it’s still new to me. Enchanting.
In his presence I forget how to write.
My little red notebook, a blank page taunts me,
as it sits in my lap, not a single word,
not even a drop of ink escapes from the tip of my pen.

He reminds me of pretty pink roses,
Perfume and ice cream on a sunny day.
Erasing my memories of funerals,
Death and decay.

He is a coffee stain on the surface of my brain.
He is a color I cannot explain.
He is complicated in every way,
Yet everything about him is so simple, plain.
He is driving me insane,

He is also keeping me in my right mind.
Who is he?
And what does he hide?-H

Who Is He? |A Poem

Promise |A Poem


I cannot promise you eternity,
I barely remember what I had for dinner last night.
And I barely remember how to smile.
Truly, that is.

I cannot promise you dry cheeks,
or a perfect body. Soft skin and a tight dress.
I can promise you piggyback rides, pillow fights.
Chipped nail polish.
I can promise you nightmares, trembling hands to hold,
sweatpants and depressed days spent in bed.

But I can also promise you cuddles,
Kisses, late night movies, tickling under the covers.
I can promise you stargazing, chicken soup and loads of coffee.
I can promise you deep conversations, I’ll mess with your mind,
You can have my heart in return.

I know that I am not her,
I am not blonde, skinny and proud.
I am insecure, sat in a shell.
I can barely match the color of my socks,
And I don’t like high heels.

But I can promise you my hand,
My soul, you already have my heart.
So, what can you promise me?
Can you promise that we’ll never fall apart?-H

Promise |A Poem

Traces of Her.


Lipstick stains, empty bottles of pills. What happened last night? You light another cigarette, you burn another bridge. This one leading to her. The one you ran to when the nights were cold like ice on your soft skin in the winters. She was a cup of coffee on a rainy day, two sugars and no milk, you had it your way.
You throw on a shirt, holes burnt through its fabric, it was old and you should have thrown it out ages ago. But it reminded you of her. Another relationship you failed to keep, another one added to the list of incapabilities, a failure.

You loved the way her arms would wrap around your neck when you kissed, the way her hugs made you feel warm inside. She was like a bright sky, a beautiful night. She was the patterns she traced on your hands on the inside of your palms, she was the cake batter stuck on your kitchen walls when you two decided to bake. What a disaster that was. But somehow it never felt like that.
She wasn’t just the good times, she was the mascara stains you washed off of your fingers after you wiped her tears away. She was the cuts on your arms, they bled with every fight you had. She was the feeling when your knees weakened, when your heart stopped with your breath caught. She was the noise, the slamming of doors and the crashing of plates against the tiled kitchen floor. She was the music, the laughter and the jokes, the “I love you’s” and the burning of dinner, because she never knew how to cook.

In everything you saw, everything you did. There was a piece of her, traces of her presence were carved into your mind. There was no escape, you couldn’t get away. Not that you wanted to anyways.
She was everything, a ghost of the better you, she was a witness to the love you had sealed away. But it was never enough.
And now you wonder if she still wears that dress you bought her, you wonder if your existence left the same countless irreplaceable traces in her life. If she still drinks at night, just forget, or did she already let go?
Because the shoebox of memories she left on your doorstep says so.-H

Traces of Her.