Everyday,

Thanks for Listening

I write songs but no one listens  I write poems no one reads  A secret show with just one ticket  these words are dancing just for me 

Oh, is this self doubt or sweet wisdom?  to play for no one but the sun  Don’t need the oohs and aahs of others  at my eternal party of one 

My imperfect poetry, I write you in invisible ink My pitchy melodies, I sing at the lowest frequency  but if you can hear me... thanks for listening 

The thrill of writing a new sentence  dreaming up syllables that sing  Don’t need a chorus line behind me  I found a friend in all these keys 

Oh, is this self doubt or sweet wisdom?  I tell myself don’t overthink I pour out my soul to these four walls give them all of my secrets to keep

My imperfect poetry, I write you in invisible ink My pitchy melodies, I sing at the lowest frequency  but if you can hear me... thanks for listening 

Am I moving forward or standing still?  Is it fear of failing or am I chill?  I tell myself it’s not that deep  so I play in secret just for me 

But if you can hear me... Oh, if you can hear me... If you can hear me... thanks for listening  

how inhuman of me,

to break my heart

and bones

again and again, through the night

all by myself.

I don't believe in god.

Nor in fate.

But I need to know.

If we will ever, like ever cross paths again.

Will I atleast get to say goodbye ?

"poeticide".

the agony of being a poet

is not actually found

in being unable to write;

it's worse. my downfall is choosing to relive the pain

with every word, emotions inexpressible;

i try to exclaim: desperately

crying for help, in verse,

doomed to repeat

the cycle

until nobody is left

to witness me.

"poeticide."

d.b.a

note: i have no foolish intentions and cherish life, as well as my place within it. the emotions i feel and express are very real, but be at ease - everything will be okay, for myself and you, the reader.

I have been wondering,

if its my fault that she is becoming a monster.

and if it is me, i might be doing a good job.

and it scares me.

that was my trait.

I never broke a promise.

But now

all I ever do is

break my own promises.

lost in soulless city

Hello 👋, My name is Momen Al Madhoun / I am a digital artist /a father of two children " Ezzdeen & Amir " I live in Gaza City in the heart of the Genocide, working tirelessly to amplify my voice to the world through my artwork.

I want to say thank you a lot. Your donations helped me improve our displacement conditions. But my family still needs your contributions to keep going We rely on you, you are our hope for survival.

🌟 Our campaign is vetted by 🇵🇸 @/gazavetters List at #291

Gofundme Campaign Link

something snapped between us today.

I was so sure that you will be there.

But when I needed you so desperately . You were gone.

When I was falling apart , you turned your back on me.

Of course , it's not your fucking fault.

I expected you to be there. I don't know . I don't know if I have ever failed to be there for you. But it hurts. Alot. You know, I was ready. I was finally all ready to let you in. Fully. To tell you that past. To let you know all that we can do together. To finally have found the right one. But I guess I was getting ahead.

Just like that, I am alone.

How to catch me