My monster

You can't create a  monster then try and destroy it

You are the one who gave it all its traits 

You are the one who told it to attack and kill

You are the one who made this 

You are the one 

Now tell me if you are the one who's created such a creature 

Why don't you see it's beauty  

Why don't you  claim it as your own 

Why don't you love it 

This so called monster is you 

It contains all of your traits 

It attacks and kills who you want it to 

It's all of you 

So I guess the deeper question is "why are you such a monster?"

Running

Have you ever ran so hard and far that you forget what your running from?

I know I'm definitely running from something, but it's been so long that I've forgotten what I'm running from, and now it just eats away not knowing?

Truth be told I hate running, I would rather walk, drive, fly or swim from what ever I'm running from. 

I think this thing I'm running is scary.... Maybe it's not, but who can tell.

I'm not alone I know that for sure. I can see, feel, hear, smell and taste others just like ME.... Well it's not ME anymore it's WE. WE are all connected some how.

There was more of WE before, some have stopped running and others are running harder than ever. I wonder what it looks like I'm doing....

Maybe I'm not even running anymore, maybe I'm here 

I was never taught

I was never taught how to deal with a lie

I was never taught how to lie 

I was never taught how to deal with deceit

I was never taught how to fear 

I was never taught how to hide 

I was never taught what was wrong 

I was never taught how to want

I was never taught to be ashamed 

I was never taught how to deal with heart ache 

I was never taught how to deal with heart break 

I was never taught how to fall out of love 

I was never taught how to be in love 

I was never taught how to deal with you...

I was never taught this so I blame you, I was taught yet this is part of, it consumes me, engulfs me then spits me out. How dear help mould such a beautiful monster and then try to kill it as it starts to think for its self.

Is it no longer beautiful?, am I no longer beautiful?

The Star

The bigger the star the bigger the tent, but what if the start is so big that there is simply no tent big enough for it? Do you let the start go without a tent? In a way yes, you leave the star out for all to see, to embrace it and to love it at its most vulnerable state. It's out there, in the open for  all to see, exposed in a way; but being exposed shows its true innocents. There's no shield of fabric nor coat of make up to cover up its past scares, bumps and bruises. It's just there, but in this it emits beauty, like non ever seen before. And to each man this beauty gives hope and a new meaning. 

My Love My generation

My Love My generation

Since my generation is being criticised so much, I think it’s time for someone to speak out.

Not just someone, someone fantastic, extraordinary, special; and that just so happens to be me.

At this very moment, I’m 16 years of age, live in North London and I am classified as black British.

In theses 16 years, I've learnt something which is valuable and goes beyond the preset norms of OUR SOCIETY.

I think, feel and know that the systems which are in place have failed a lot of us. I say us as I am speaking on the behalf of MY GENERATION.

We would like to think that love is what makes the world go round... but hold on that’s money

We would like to think that love provides a happy life... but hold on that’s a happy life

We would like to think that love is what holds everything... but hold on what is everything in a world full of nothing. When the one you made to be you’re everything, treats you as nothing.

It’s weird the bible tells/teaches us what love is in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails.”

It’s weird, in the number of years which I have been in various intuitions. I've never been taught what love is and how it's supposed to feel. This is probably the reason why my generation is either to quick or never does say “I love you”.

When you think about that’s probably the cause of most problems faced by my generation.

Before you can love someone else you first of all have to love yourself, but since we are never taught what love is....

True love causes people to feel happy, true happiness because people to feel love; they are directly proportional.

Because we do not know how to make ourselves happy, we thus try and make others happy so we have an example to learn and grow from.

In the case of teenage pregnancy girls and boys give up their bodies, unprotected, in the attempt to feel something real;Love, but it does not turn out the way they wanted to, and we all know how the story goes from there.

Gang culture is simply just a fake source of love. You feel isolated, lonely, unloved. So you turn to streets. Where you create or are even giving a new identity, a fake one. This provides you with a false sense of security, which you think gives a new persona but the pain and scars, are still there.

Love can only be felt if you let it to be, and it’s not as scary as it seems.

Love is a better drug than any type weed and a better weapon than any knife or gun.

It seems by not knowing what love is, I now know what love is.

WEIRD

The Exception to the Rule

What I thought was there, isn't there and what I thought wasn't there, was there, total mind......

So I'm gonna keep on my guard, stay on my guard. I let you in so freely thinking  that this is it, my happy ever after, my "the end" written in elegant writing. But it's not, I thought I was a player before I met you. Checkmate. 

You run in and walk out, leaving a mess that none can clean. I think about you, I try not to but I do. Your not my first time. I've tried hard but it's not hard enough. Searching  for substance to get the taste of you out.  

You where truly the exception to the rule 

To be honest, I've done it to others. So this is my medicine I love Karma. She's no mans Bitch. She comforts me but yet she still destroys. This is me getting slain. Nothing will ever be the same, when your finished.

There's always that one person that will always have your heart. I never saw it coming, so it's tearing me apart...

I'm not the same any more, please don't be sad or offended, I just needed to let it out so I can finally sleep at night. 

 

Just answer me this one question "did  I even stand a chance?"

Your hesitation speaks to me.

Afghan Girl

Her eyes are iconic, they show so many stories; stories which are not supposed to be hers.
They are mystic yet show refrain. She has a story to tell one which some try to hide. She radiates confidence but is so reluctant.

Pain, sorrow, heartbreak but theres still hope. In her eyes I see fear, loneliness. She has seen things done things, that she have never been aware of. Well in the perfect world; but what is perfect.

She's in a great deal of pain but she's silent. Silence is not the best policy. Sleepless nights. What is on her mind? Thats for her to know and no-one to find out!

The type of pain she's in, is the worst. Watching things crumble, fade disappear right in front of your eyes and not being able to do anything about it....

She has cried till she can't cry any more. Her eyes don't even go red any more. The Afghan girl screams and shouts and lets it all out. Everyone sees her yet they do noting. Attempting to doing something but still nothing. You see the truth is the worst poison and thats what she's full of. TRUTH.

It's a scary world, especially when you're on your own. She's not, thats the problem!
There's help out there. No-one seems to understand that .

She's been picked up and put straight down. She's old before her time and her face is about to catch up.
Muted emotion. Thats how they like it. All glitz and glamour, fake but its seems to hurt now.
She wants to be real. Be noticed.

The tears in her give her eyes a glaze of longing lust. A fire which can not be put out; no matter how hard they try.

Daddy's little girl. Her mind is on a different level. She's always been a rebel; but is she now a rebel of a lost cause. The opinions of the world do not matter, they only leave  a superficial wound.

We all have piece of her in us. The fight we will always have, The dream we think of every time we close our eyes. That determination. That beauty; but is hidden scared to show just a glimpse.

No pain no gain, thats all she breaths. This is our Afghan girl. This is my Afghan girl.

This is the Afghan girl...