ariachez

www.instagram.com/ariachez/

a toxic account. read at your own risk. ���� | 29

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  • ariachez 2d

    I’m not a fan of explaining things. Explanation, they say, ruin the art. So, I prefer them hidden between the lines unless someone specifically requested me to explain. However, I will make an exception in this post(for some already misinterpreted what I want to convey).

    They say we are all products of the environment and culture that raised us, that every time we think, these things inculcated to us since young, remain to be in the forefront of our minds. But we are never the things taught to us until we embraced them.

    We might be taught that every harm done has its own consequence and most of the time, we want to serve revenge with our bare hands, but it takes courage to say no. That is what this quote wants to say, you should be proud of doing what you think is right regardless of what you were taught to do so.

    Your initial take of things might be wrong, and that's alright. What you decide to do afterwards determines who you are.

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  • ariachez 1w

    I have a problem switching between writing long and short poems �� am I the only one?

    So a long one again.. and still I don't know if this makes sense ����

    And I'm not left-handed ��

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    I wonder why
    God put in our hands,
    the definition of right
    and wrong,

    why can't it be
    a universal law?
    that when you do bad things,
    earth swallows you whole,

    'cause often
    the people I meet
    have their right hands
    full of goods,
    and they decide
    to hold me with their left,

    while my left
    is full of bad relationship
    I set aside
    for learning,
    and my right palm
    remains open
    for rent,

    I don't know
    if this is story
    of the 10% of population
    who are left-handed,

    or story
    of how Math failed
    to teach me
    how to count blessings,

    or maybe,
    story of every individual
    and how they are molded
    by different hands.

    nevertheless,
    if someone asked me,
    how your hands
    feel like,
    I would answer
    they are too soft
    to be wrong.

    ©ariachez
    mar152019

  • ariachez 1w

    i'll tell you
    how your eyes
    look like,

    sparks
    alternating shadow,
    like hope
    and doubt
    coexist in same space,
    mixed a thousand times
    but remain
    immiscible,

    reasons
    slowly drowning
    in your eyes,
    as guilt climb
    at its back,

    eyelashes dipped,
    in the color
    of denied justice,
    painting lips salty,

    red from scratching walls
    that don't fight back,
    like your mouth
    forced close
    by respect,

    eyelids, that shut,
    made up of
    one-half metal bars
    one-half cement,
    your prison
    is too cold
    for your innocence,

    you need
    a cell mate
    who will lit
    your sentence
    and rewrite your stand
    with its ashes,
    proving
    some crimes
    have enough reasons,
    to be guilt-free.

    like how decoding secrets
    in your eyes,
    is my favorite crime
    to commit.

    ©ariachez
    mar122019

  • ariachez 1w

    Sorry,
    if I breathe
    too loud
    on the phone,

    I could smell
    in the air
    longingness,

    but love
    is a language
    we chose not to speak,

    so, pardon me,
    for I have
    to stop breathing
    through my nose
    and my voice cracks
    every few words,

    you guessed
    it was me
    biting my nails
    again,

    you pretend
    to know me
    by pointing out habits,
    I do subconsciously.

    but this time,
    I consciously bite
    my nails,
    and silently cry
    how I let go
    a part of me,
    just so
    you couldn't own
    a piece of me.

    we treat love
    as a war,

    when we expose
    a part,
    we leave it in the open
    to die,

    we flee,
    regretting what we left behind,
    hoping,
    maybe,
    there's a better way
    to say goodbye,

    Ending a telephone
    conversation,
    with desire to talk more,
    with more than just
    click-then-dial-tone.

    ©ariachez
    mar122019

    #doImakesense

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