Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

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Your story, all those pages before me, I want to read every word. I want my eyes to undress every letter. I want to hold you like a book and smell the pages, and I would know you’re the real thing. You shared your secrets with me and I will share the stars with you. When we’re floating in space, I’ll tell you about infinity and maybe, I can tell you a story about me.
Michael Daaboul
Will you be going for long? I ask because you didn’t tell me when you’re coming back. It’s a long time when you don’t say. I miss you in a day, I can’t imagine how I would feel in a week without you. Don’t leave me for long, it gets lonely in my mind and my dreams, break my heart.
Michael Daaboul
Is it worth searching the oceans for your blue eyes? Should I jump in cherry fields to find your red lips? Tell me, in hurricanes, are you breathing me in or are you trying to blow me away?
Michael Daaboul
In paradise they hear us sing, about the horror stories on Earth during the wars they bring. We tried to stay strong and fearless, but the haunting artillery was no match for our voices. They forced us in hibernation and we became weak and scared. We gave in, we needed food and water. They stripped us of our defences and tore our clothes off. There was no other way of knowing, in this paradise, that they would have their way with us when they were staring right into our eyes.
Michael Daaboul
I’m alone and I feel the darkness of the night has come over me. Fear has taken my heart and everyone I know has run away. I hold on to my teddy and hold on so tight, I sing a song my mother used to sing to me when father wasn’t home to try and lie to me about how everything will be fine. I saw it in front of my own eyes when they took her. It’s not the night I’m afraid of, it’s the cowards in tanks, that have taken everything I have ever loved away from me.
Michael Daaboul
We’re at war again and they have fed us lies. The innocent die and those hiding wonder when all of this is going to end. It’s easy for us here to not listen to the bombardment of shells; it’s easy to forget the children who are covering their ears, shutting their eyes so tight. They will sit there not knowing why their mother and father had died, why their brother and sister have been wounded. And they have come to realise, they don’t ever want to know why, they just wanted everything to be alright.
Michael Daaboul
Will she go to Heaven; will you ever see her again? It makes you so angry the people in this world have forsaken you. You try to forget, but then it consumes your mind again and you remember it all. And you wish you had all the time once more, with her, just one more day. I want to know God, will I ever meet her again. You haven’t given me a sign and you have broken my heart again and again and you won’t tell me or end my misery, tell me, will I meet her again?
Michael Daaboul
I won’t be coming back home, this is war and nobody wins. I’m stuck in a conflict that I can’t control or have the power to save my soul. I have no more motivation or desire to live from what I have seen. The terror is real on the other side, the monsters are real. When the enemy looked at me after killing my family, I knew he was giving me one more chance to see the permanent reminder of what has become a reality for the people I loved. And then, he pulled the trigger.
Michael Daaboul
When I didn’t have a full-time job or an evolving list of responsibilities, I used to love waking up in the morning where I could do whatever I want. Sleep in without having to think about work, or doing anything anyone requires of me. No pressure, nothing, just me doing me things. Sit down, not feeling rushed, drinking tea, reading a book, surfing the net, playing a video game and going out for a walk. In the day, we’re stuck at work, and apparently, that’s living, they even rose the retirement age.
Michael Daaboul
She was afraid of things that never happened. It continued to scare her; it didn’t matter how much you tried to reason with her or tried to calm her down. It wasn’t certain. She liked the warmth of the Sun because it was always there; she knew it will rise every day. She wasn’t afraid of the Sun; she didn’t have to worry about the Sun not rising the next day. With all her worries and fears, even though, most of them were imaginary, she still struggled to do the things she wanted to, like fall in love.
Michael Daaboul
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