Time by Hawra’a Khalfan

They ask.

They always ask:

what your drive is:

What your aim is:

What your lifelong goal is.

They ask 

you where your sympathies lie;

where your heart flutters;

why your heart flutters?

how you want to live;

who you strive to be like;

who makes you who you are?

They take all those answers from you

about

your-

self:

future;

present.

But they fail:

to ask about your past;

your demons;

your weaknesses;

your unexplained fears;

They-

don’t-

care-

about all the things

that held you up

to be this

version of yourself that

they find interesting.

They

don’t care about

all those skeletons in closets;

all those days spent mourning;

the sad moments that gave you

this strength that

they applaud.

They

don’t ask;

how many times you’ve been defeated

how many times you’ve had your heart broken.

The truth;

they don’t want to know

about what’s lurking within those

shadows of yours;

They

don’t need to know what it is;

what you are.

They

just need to know:

you’re

less beautiful than them.

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