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Chantel Akrawi
I’m just trying to be a better writer. Enjoy my stories.
![Chantel Akrawi](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Ffirebasestorage.googleapis.com%3A443%2Fv0%2Fb%2Fprompt-6db57.appspot.com%2Fo%2Fusers%252FZ69bePFrCHTurXJ4DRMkeBsi9u13%252Fprofile_image_128x128.jpg%3Falt%3Dmedia%26token%3Db974df58-1d2b-48f1-b8ab-b0fdf8df489a&w=256&q=75)
Chantel Akrawi
I’m just trying to be a better writer. Enjoy my stories.
I’m just trying to be a better writer. Enjoy my stories.
I’m just trying to be a better writer. Enjoy my stories.
Liar, liar,
My eyes on fire,
Did you desire
To burn this empire?
You think I wouldn’t
Conspire your actions?
The clues were lain
Upon your transactions.
You wouldn’t dare
To cross me now;
I gave you trust you’ve
Tainted somehow.
Why do you feel the
Need to hide
What you did so easily
With your pride?
Is that guilt you feel,
When you don’t disagree?
It wouldn’t be shame, or
You’d stop hurting ...
“Where do you see yourself
In five years?”
This question is the opposite of
Music to my ears.
Funny, if I knew the answer,
My life wouldn’t be an adventure-
The rollercoaster of a lifetime,
Loops of pain and pleasure.
Five years ago I didn’t know
Who I’d be today;
I didn’t know if I’d even be alive
To see another day.
Who knew I’d exceed my
Lack of expectations,
And be the person I didn’t
Know ...
Knock knock,
“Who’s there?”
A list of names
Of those who care.
Your can of worms
Feel empty and dark
But people are waiting for
Your invite to your heart.
“Let us in, Let us in!”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin”
So you huff and you puff
And blow the whole world out!
Anything to prove there’s
No rain in this drought.
Ears perched like a wallflower;
The world isn’t as dark as it seems.
Th...
You may underestimate my knowledge,
My case is closed.
You merely tolerate my existence,
I’m your aging mold.
Your bubble of breath- readily available oxygen;
I combust from exposure.
You walk with eyes closed and a thick skull,
My lips sewn in closure.
You’ve unraveled my stitches, destruction is
Your type.
I will disappear, as you wish, without sparing you a
Goodbye....
What are butterflies
If not anxiety?
Missing you is equivalent
To five years of sobriety.
You brushed your beard
In gentle strokes,
It was never my hair-
A girl only hoped.
We were fire and ice
Blended to our demise.
A hurricane of measure
When our fingers entwined.
You filled my glass to emptiness;
I only wanted more,
Because the contents you poured
Left me sour and sore.
I hope you’re well
I...
Oh, Winter, how you left me in my blues.
You would think it was June the way you gloom.
Withered flowers now prepare for their bloom,
And I await for slight warmth coming soon.
Oh, Spring, the defrosting you know so well,
Has come to save me from this freezing hell.
Apricity came to melt off my shell,
Readying a blush for my smile to dwell....
Daring truths,
And crystal lies;
We’re planting roots
That reach the skies.
Quiet storms,
Nothing to fear;
What we mourn,
No one hears.
Clothing shredded
On the battlefield-
What we mended
Is now our shield.
We get battle-scars
For the sake of glory;
Scars on hearts
Make up our story.
We want results
Without the pain;
We act like adults
For the sake of gain.
We think squeaky clean
Is the drea...
Schrödinger’s Cat,
Is it alive or dead?
My new self,
Is she blue or red?
Blue in melancholia,
Red in passion,
But the gray area
Is purple in ration.
I work in loops of
Unsatisfactory growth,
Praising myself along the
Path to my undying oath.
I work to be better,
Be different in every sense.
What will become of the girl
Who couldn’t jump the fence?
She’s still attached
By a string of silk
To cu...
Ingrained in me
What I’m learning to unlearn,
The habits of you
Which make my stomach churn.
The seeds you planted
Sprouted the roots of your nurture,
And the fruits that have grown
Will rot in the near future.
I’ve had to pull my roots
Starting from the ground-up,
Just to replace the emptiness
With seeds I’ve grown in a cup.
I water my new sprouts
As you’ve shaded my sunlight.
I mend for my wi...
Trigger warning: eating disorder
Beyoncé is usually right about everything, but, in my life, one thing stands out the most true- Pretty hurts.
No one talks about how severely competitive the ballerina world is. You have to keep your body in shape, and your look matters.
Even in my youth, I had to prioritize my skin and diet above all else. A porcelain look and nonexistent waistline was the norm...