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May Brouss Poem
Poetry dies,
Paint finishes,
Legs get tired,
Voices get stiff,
But our thoughts don’t get rest,
Our hearts don’t run dry.
The human race loves expressing,
But judges others for doing the exact same thing.
Who gets to pick and choose?
Who gets to win or lose?
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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May Brouss Poem
The cold is leaving the air
And the smell of the grass is sneaking in.
The train is bringing me home,
The home where I was the reckoning.
My body shivers in the summer while remembering,
Remembering how the other me was acting.
The lowest part of my soul is gravitating
In the cafés, passages, and places,
Without fear, shame, nor guilt,
Screaming: here I am — have you thought of changing?
I respond with anger: I have, have you?
And she said: why change when you know what's coming?
The duality of my selves keep rhyming,
And the place where once was home is shifting.
Did I leave that façade in this city?
Did I come back new and with eyes of pity?
Trying to fit in the mold of desperation,
Knowing deep down my true consolation is just building a new foundation.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2025
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May Brouss Poem
Is my writing only good when I’m drowning?
When I’m down to my knees and my soul shouts heal
Is my happiness on only when I’m socializing?
When I cry of laughter only so my sad tears can be sealed
Is my depression the only motive of my paintings?
When I pour into a canvas only so my ideas can be cleared
Are those same ideas present with my happy self?
If not, who am I when I’m happy?
Is my tongue only flexible when I’m faking?
When I play with sweet words only so that my façade can be shielded?
Is this double sword personality of mine the only way to be acceptable?
If it is, is this fair to my heart? To my brain? To my body?
Is it fair to me? Or even to them?
Or is it the hidden rule played by the elite?
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2025
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May Brouss Poem
Still connected to the world, and yet everything feels so distant.
Still connected to the world, and yet everything feels so different.
Would you hold onto them if you can’t hear them saying the cheers?
Would you hold onto me if leaves can’t even hold onto the trees?
Would I be here for you if I’m not even here for myself?
Would I forgive you if I don’t forgive myself?
Still connected to the world, and yet connection isn’t what I feel.
Still connected to the world, and yet connection is what I fear.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2025
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May Brouss Poem
Helplessly figuring life without your support.
Were you my first love?
Trying to mend the mistakes you caused.
Did you leave me on the shore?
Building a wall no one can tear.
Is this because of your faults?
Remembering what it's like having you around.
How did I live while having you damaging my core?
Scared to connect with your mirror,
because if I do, my life would be a loophole.
Guilt crawling into me while distancing.
Is this the power that a father has on a soul?
Smiling while I navigate through this world.
Jealous when I see that other people have more.
Triggered by every word that you spoke,
because only you know what's behind that door.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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May Brouss Poem
Never thought of pleasing nobody before
Until I saw your eyes asking for more
I knew your love was unconditional
And yet the thought of deceiving you was making me do the unpredictable
Can't you see that my hair, my dress, and my manners scream you all over?
Can't acknowledge my feelings that are suppressed and have a cover?
Maybe if I smile like you you'll notice
Maybe when my skin molds into you you'll focus
But until then I'll wait for your approval
And imprison my being into a glass oval
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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May Brouss Poem
Sometimes I think of all the lives I could’ve lived, all the careers, plans, and people I could’ve met, and I sit with myself and sigh, “Ah, if it weren’t because of him.”
I wanted to be a hairdresser, but he laughed at me.
I wanted to be a cook, but he said that it’s already my duty.
I wanted to be a teacher, but he mocked me.
I wanted to be an artist, but he couldn’t let me be.
Some other times, I think of all the places I could’ve been, all the cafés, the exhibitions, and the little shops I could’ve liked, and I sit with myself and sigh, “Who’s stopping me?”
I wanted to be everything, anything, all at once.
And I remember that I still could be.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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May Brouss Poem
Aging is a bizarre concept.
You grow up & then grow old.
You break up & then turn cold.
You sneak in & then repent.
You suck in & then regret.
Hair, hands, and smiles fade away,
and if you’re unlucky enough,
you’ll leave with your memories astray.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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May Brouss Poem
When are we going to embrace ourselves?
History is not a straight line; it’s a cycle.
We see brothers and sisters getting killed,
Children being tortured,
Over what?
Some invisible lines to lands that are not ours?
How would our ancestors feel when they’ll see that nothing has changed?
How would God punish all of the wrong heads in charge?
Oh, dear sacred lands,
forgive us and retain the blood on your soil
until it’s time to turn back your coin.
Copyright © May Brouss | Year Posted 2026
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