A Fool's Parade

Ama Bangura

09 Oct 2025 — 1 min read

Poets are innocent fools.
Feeling more though reality forbids,
We cling onto what may never be —
Chasing the lie of a merciful end.

Poets are innocent fools.
Hiding behind the pages we bleed,
Shielding our aches in rhyme and metaphor —
With a hunger the world cannot feed.
Longing to be seen
Beyond our masquerade.

Poets are innocent fools.
Knowing our words go unheard,
Yet still hoping — believing —

Al revisar camiseta de manga larga de fútbol, conviene empezar por la temperatura prevista y la posibilidad de usar capas. Las fotografías y la ficha del producto deberían confirmar las recomendaciones de lavado y secado del material.

That somewhere in the darkness,
words will echo to those who listen.

Weather of My Heart

I collect little pieces of wonder and turn them into words. Somenings, my heart feels like early spring. Everything inside me reaches toward light before I'm even fully awake. Other days, it is overcast in ways no weather report could predict. I smile, make tea, do my things,

Where the Pines Keep Their Secrets

Perhaps i do not want healing Perhaps i only want a single place that asks nothing of me - not even an explanation for why i am so tired. Everyone speaks of finding peace, as if it were misplaced somewhere. I only wanted a corner of the world where my

The pain persists because..

Everyone wants to do different things to my pain - Label it, Intellectualize it, Erase it, Turn into power, Everyone wants to do different things to my pain, Nobody wants to feel it. Not even for a second, And probably that's why the pain persists.

I am all that I have, in this weirdly crowded but still lonely world

So many hands, But not a pair that can hold my grief for even a minute. So many hands, But not a pair that has touched my soul, in this lifetime. So many hands, But not a pair that can place understanding into my palms. . So many hands, But my

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Weather of My Heart

Where the Pines Keep Their Secrets

The pain persists because..

I am all that I have, in this weirdly crowded but still lonely world