My Friends Yousef And Mona Are Trying To Survive A Very Dangerous Situation... It's Hard To Focus On

my friends yousef and mona are trying to survive a very dangerous situation... it's hard to focus on fundraising when you are worried more about surviving bombings. they do still need funds. it is getting harder and harder to afford basic needs for both themselves and their baby alaa. i haven't heard any good news about mona's lungs (they were damaged in a previous bombing), so i assume they're as bad as ever. she's told me it's very painful. she can't rest because she spends her nights coughing violently instead. if you can help them at all, here is the link to their fundraiser. since they are fundraising in swedish krona, smaller donations are accepted. anything will help at least a little, but please be aware 10 kr is 94 cents in usd. if you can't donate, please share the post. you have a helpful role.

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gofundme.com

Donate to Help Youssef and his family escape the occupation, organized by Osam Lolo

‏Imagine that you lose everything you have in the blink of an eye, you che… Osam Lolo needs your support for Help Youssef and his family esc

Sweet Nothing

I stay in your cold embrace,

Arms right around me meant as a blanket, a home

But all it feels is like rope, tying my hands to my sides,

leaving aching skin and red

complaints behind,

And neither of us is happy,

I'm not happy so you're not happy

And you try to satiate me,

Pressing a face against me,

whispered sweet nothings mean nothing

To someone who is feeling numb,

To someone who lost love for who initiated this hug,

Sweet nothings are sweet,

But bite the tongue that eats and it bleeds,

Bitter iron spilling, you only wipe away the leak,

The corner of my lips betray me,

As I try on a smile like I would a new dress,

I don't like this one, it doesn't suit me

Live your lies like a little movie,

Love your regretted loathing like a drug,

I guess we'd just be both at fault here,

Both at fault yet no one stops,

The yelling becomes white noise

In this bleak and burdened union,

We're only wearing rusted rings, not diamonds but obsidian.

You kiss me goodnight, I say 'I love you' like one would say 'good riddance'

Your words candied words that I grind between my teeth,

Tearing to dust like a personal grudge,

And while I do that, in your arms I watch from afar,

you are mourning me like a lost love.

But I am still here, breathing and screaming

Too alive for someone who's discontent,

Too dead to be someone who once loved you,

We are both lonely, so no one wants to let go,

But what's the point of keeping company

If the other wants to let go?

And a friend once told me

Wise and weeping,

that sweet nothings mean nothing,

to someone who's fallen out of love.

Tags

love writing heartbreak relationship unhappy sad writing I've never been in a relationship this is just me writing character POVs

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claera-mal

3 years ago

Do not follow me, (not anymore)

I would love you as if you were my own, My own to love, and my own to mourn, I would card my fingers through the tidal curls, And sweep past all the dirt crumbs you had, Because you rolled in damp swamp grass.

I would protect you, from anyone else who dare harm you, Even if you are a fighter and I, a writer, You seem to need me so I will guide you so, Little soldier, you should've stayed a child for a little while longer, It was not your time to see piercing spears and impaling blades on a blood strewn battlefield, Young minds are not meant to don old armor, But why, oh why in my naivete did I lead you here?

Please don't follow me, not anymore, I have no trust in myself to hold your guiding torch, I might burn you with a single blind swing, Just as I had all that long ago when I singed my own wings, I have a lot to say, but too little courage to tell; Apologies are on the tip of my tongue, but they can't seem to spill.

Little child I love like my own, If you were to forgive the one who raised you, Would they not hurt you anymore?

I will give you every reason I could think of, so you would let go, I'm afraid if you stay by my side for longer than you need to, I'd harm you just like all those years ago, I never lay a hand against you, but I broke that porcelain pedestal, And the shards of porcelain left bleeding cuts I could not mend.

I'm sorry, my dear, I wish you the best.

Tags

writing poetry ctommy c!wilbur crimeboys as per usual c!crimeboys this is aimed at can you tell what my favorite duo is? don't expect accuracy from me this ain't an analysis it's an angst poem XD if it's accurate it's an accident if it's inaccurate it's an accident

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claera-mal

3 years ago

My Heart, I Am The Soul

My darling, my darling

You are my darling,

My heart in it's true form,

With every color of gold and blue

Oh so vibrant blue,

In my arms would be my sun,

That shines brighter than anyone,

Any star in the sky could never compare,

My sunshine, you make me laugh the sound of a thousand wind chimes.

My darling, my darling,

You're an idiot, you know that?

You're mistakes make me crack up so much

And my composure falls through like sand

While I'm with you,

My sunshine, my heart,

Will you stay by me at my lowest?

When my voice echoes louder in this cave of

lost loves,

In this cave where we could never call home,

In this cave where the cold clings to my coat like an unwelcome guest,

Where I hurt you farther than I would like,

Where I lost myself in the dark,

Not even your light could pull me out,

You were so young, you never were meant to keep me sane,

It was never your responsibility to keep my heart intact,

After all, you are the heart of our home,

I am it's soul,

And so you are my heart,

If you are my heart, why do cracks line your face

Like a frantic, manic artist, trying to make pace?

I am not to be kept in your life, am I?

I don't truly deserve your forgiveness,

But knowing you,

You'll give it to me anyway,

And with that, I cry.

Tags

writing poetry guilt Remorse sad writing of losing oneself and others losing you reflect this is read as platonic familial in fact

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claera-mal

2 months ago

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Hanan and her children to reach safety, organized by Hanan Mahmoud

I am Hanan from Gaza, 33 years old, a mother of 3 children (Lana 10 ye… Hanan Mahmoud needs your support for Help Hanan and her childr

Please help Hanan and her family!

233 notes View Post

claera-mal

3 weeks ago

Do you still think of us?

Do you still think of our children — bleeding, terrified, broken — being slaughtered in Gaza by Israeli airstrikes?

Say it out loud. Say it with a repost. Because silence is complicity. And our children are dying. This isn’t just another post.

This is a mother’s cry. A desperate plea.

My own son was severely injured in one of the recent airstrikes. His tiny body, broken and bleeding, now lies in a hospital that has no medicine, no electricity, no hope.

He needs urgent surgery that can only be done outside Gaza. Every minute that passes puts his life at greater risk.

I am begging you — from one human being to another — to please help me save my son’s life. Your donation could be the reason he survives. The reason he gets another chance at life, at laughter, at childhood.

Please, don’t turn away. Don’t scroll past.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

gofundme.com

Donate to Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Family from War in Gaza, organized by Ghazal Naseer

‎‏Dear friends, ‎‏My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil

🙏 Donate, share, pray. From the bottom of my heart — thank you

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claera-mal

3 years ago

I am the sky,

The blues of the morning, happy and bright, untouched but lonely, no clouds in sight.

I am the earth,

Fertile and frolicking, wide and green, even as the wildflowers sing with the wind, and the blood that is pressed into the soil beneath me, with the wild sprouting in glee.

I am the wind,

Soundless and free, carefree and careless, as one would wish to be, singing praises into the ears of many, sad and lonely may they be, the wind may stay, not away, from any.

I am the sun,

Bright star against the sky, lambent and bent with joy, laughing with no sound, and warm but not scorched.

I am the sea,

Vast and infinite in the eyes of one person, endless beneath it's surface, and unknown is it's creatures that it is home to, all encompassing and steady, but the sea is never restrained.

I am the moon,

White with morals, but dark in surrounding, cold and gentle, wished to be unmoving, as the tides below sway to my command, as the people on the ground sleep with no sound.

I am the stars,

Bright dots of freckled light, scattered and uneven, but beautiful in every right, immovable but present, distant but not lost, away but not stolen.

And of all the things that I am,

I am love,

Ever present and unending, unconditional or otherwise, heartbreaking or fulfilling, I exist amongst them all, there are those who do not believe in me, but I believe in myself, and who is to stop me from believing me? For who am I, but my own identity of love?

Tags

love writing sun moon poetry prose stars sky sea earth wind

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claera-mal

3 years ago

. . .

Two brothers despair upon damp grass, and the beating sun against the blue canvas, the older cradles the younger in his arms, who happens to look lifeless in his hold, such a sunny day for such a bloody sight, the world never did halt for them, not when they needed it to, not when they wanted it to. Crimson pools beneath their knees, and the older brother screams his voice hoarse, he sobs out "Please...please come back... I'msorryI'msorryI'msofuckingsorryI'MSORRY!"

No matter how loud he yells, his little brother wouldn't say a word, still limp in his destructive hands, still not the bright sun he was just moments before. The cost of his competitive nature has caught up to him twice, he prays to at least his mother that there will never be a thrice (and he throws in a fleeing wish that if his little kid brother doesn't make it, she would take care of him, she certainly could better than he could have ever done.)

It has forced him to pay the price, and the price came in the form of the second possible death he has caused, out of the very few deaths he has been the cause of, why only his right-hand men? Long overdue apologies fall on unhearing ears, he wishes he did not have the cowardice he had.

Now the sun has burnt out.

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claera-mal

3 years ago

The Woman Who Painted,

And Never Forgot

Have you ever heard, of a story told in words

Painted in your mind, and burned into your heart?

Of each time a statement so significant, would not be forgotten by one, and instead cursed (or blessed) to never forget;

Where words to be heard, inspires the mind to bring out it's canvas, paint it's joys or sorrows away, and hang the painting up, for no one else but one to see?

I'll tell you a tale, of a woman no one knows the name of,

But her story is to be remembered, as a tale children hear, at night from their parents' whispers

Of a woman, who could not forgot, a significant line from those she held dear,

Both a blessing

And a curse

At first, it was her mother

The drip, drip, dripping of "Honey" from her lips

It trickled itself into her mind, fed her heart

It was syrupy, like a sweet treat after a hard day

It was her first love, and one that was to never to be taken from her,

Second, was from her brother,

"I hate you!"

It was discordant, all written in static, it hurt, she could see and hear the insincerity in this declaration,

She apologized shortly after, their small little quarrel, she'd rather never hear or see, that horrid line of hurt, much less would she want that insincerity, become no longer.

Next was her lover,

Name known to none but family and her,

"Sweetheart"

In a loopy handwriting, full of curled arcs and elongated inking, red, cherry red in color

She tucks this memory in her arms, and placed it high in her mind, never to forget

Last was her former love,

Name known to none but her family and her,

"I've found someone"

It was covered in roses, but with roses come thorns

And those thorns dug through her heart, wrapped itself around her mouth

Left her speechless and in tears,

A tale of a woman, who could not forget,