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The Fictitious Character Is Out Of The Book Is It A Story Or The Truth?

Noted Nest

Updated: Oct 5, 2024

By Ziniya Al Baha



She was fire and he was rain.

The sound of his breath, the thumping of their hearts.

Blood gushing through their veins, the warmth of their palms.

The storm that was raging, the rain that was pouring.

The splashing of water, the giggles and chuckles.

The smell of soil, the heart’s turmoil.

The febricity rising, the desired craving.

Nature rejoiced their playful smile.

The acceptance of thy flaws, the acceptance of thy scars.

The trees were whispering, the puddles emerging.

Coldness in the air and darkness in their heart.

Hiding behind the shroud, were two very different arts.

Was this something real, was this something true?

Yesterday was a stormy night, the clouds of sorrow hovered high,

while winds of despair clenched the heart tight,

destroying whatever came into its sight with destruction and darkness plunged beside.

Couldn’t know the direction, couldn’t know the cause,

as the storm came to cease, the thudding heart came to ease,

heavy like a stone, the body was weary as my own.


No assertions would quieter the burning within, all senses lost somewhere in between,

and the mask fell with the showers of reality within.

The barren soul drained of living demands salvation, the urge to escape gripped the collar

tight and pulled towards its sight.

Shutting the doors tight, the candles are lit tonight, with rays of hope burning bright.

Clinging to a pen and paper, jolting the pains and passions, the endless light gripping the

soul-tight and words flowing like a fountain full of wine.

The scribbling and the scratching explain the despair defined. Emotions flow with heavy

breaths evoking pangs and pains. Recalling the tunes and shades of the damages made.


The flashes of goodbyes, the clashes of tonight. The sparkling stars making everything so far,

counting its fall stand the besieging stall.

Strolling through the streets the paths seem so sleek, memories fail to recall the destruction

and loss done by the strolls.

Silence of the tide griping the versions far behind, dancing through the storm the thunder

seems so bright, and something doesn’t feel right, some things happen without any try.

Feigning won’t change anything at all, too young to deal with it at all, life may flee away

sipping tea and counting stars while I dont know who you really are.

It makes me cry it makes me try.

Does he know my pain? Oh love, what’s your aim?

I know he’s not the same maybe that’s how people really change, some things don’t match,

the flowers have thongs attached.

Something doesn’t feel right, I hope he is not lying this time.

Let’s walk down the lane, clasping each other’s names,

maybe this would be our end then let’s bid goodbye looking deep into our eyes,

let’s meet all the people who thought we were a couple.

Parting may be difficult but let’s make it cherishable, maybe that’s how it ends, my heart’s

still in grief maybe he had not fallen indeed.

It’s just a fleeting feeling, so why am I digging deep? I knew this would be the same,

cause all these things are insane.

My heart bleeds in pain, I’m looking for an escape, he doesn’t understand my poetry,

doesn’t understand my gaze, then what’s all this fuzz about? What’s all this fame?

Dont make things so gay, I know you’ll leave halfway. Stop offering glimpses of paradise,

when you’re building a hell inside. Nothing wrong when you feel the same hold on tight

there will rain.


By Ziniya Al Baha



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