Mayhem of the Heart


By Rawan Olma

Vanishing heartlines emblazoned against quivering hands
No ink to rewrite them, no light to illuminate them
Rushing veins and interlocked bones
A series of complexities constructed upon simplicity 

As nights grow older, time moves slower 
And I have yet to find solace in the silence. 
Perhaps there’s a flaw in my wiring
Perhaps I’ll never know
And that petrifies me even more
Uncertainity wears me down while unpredictability wears me like a mask
There’s no method to my madness 
No formulas to calculate the speed of the lightning that strikes through my heart
I feel in extremes
And live through mirrored juxtapositions
If the mind was a mountain
My thoughts are an avalanche.
I cannot calm the waves in my soul 
Or the thunder in my words

I fear of losing the ones I hold dear
But I fear even more of losing myself
A six letter word so intricate
yet engulfed in so much mystery,
that it has almost become devoid of meaning
An improbable connotation
They say a body is a temple
But I have yet to meet who resides inside it
I’m as much of a stranger to myself as the girl that I have passed in a crowded school hallway
Or the bus driver with the hollow eyes and tired voice.
I’m just a stranger to myself

What if I never have the chance to get acquainted?

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