Umarah Hussain is a creative writer, poet and social inequality and mental health advocate from North East England. She works as a full-time digital content creator in which she writes creative copy, using her wide imagination to bring marketing concepts to life. She studied MSc Digital Marketing at Northumbria University, obtaining a First Class grade for her dissertation in regards to social inequality. Her hobbies include powerlifting and spoken word poetry. This would be her debut publication. Her social handle is umarah.isha on Instagram.
broken souls will leave you like you are a danger zone; laying your memories and broken entity in a cemetery, throwing you into the depths of the rotting soil because they have already seen hell on earth, so do not try to destroy them any further for they have been amalgamated from atoms of incalculable planets, and perpetual constellations found within the expanse of our vast universe, so love damaged souls until their mental crevices become thin scars, that they can only just remember
if your heartbreak makes you believe that this world is futile, you have never lived long enough to ever witness the skyline scintillating at twilight, staring right up into space, you have never wondered how many stars have had to explode and collapse, millions of years before you're gazing right at them, you've never peeked out of an airplane window at the ant-like world passing you by, you have never been awake early enough to witness the sky evolve from deep blue, to hues of light pink, you have never spent long enough looking up at the horizon at daytime to make shapes out of the tiny white specks in the sky, yet if someone can break you, and make you hate the world you live in, just remember that you were singlehandedly crafted by the Lord, to become the most unique art form displayed in this world
drown yourself in self-love
i am a masterpiece yet a work in progress, a wonder of the world yet a body of mere silence, i am cased within diamonds yet weak without protection, i am eloquence and grace yet i lay in withering roses, i am love and glittering light yet tangled in their opinions, let me sail away in fresh linen, soft laughs and mellow voices, sitting beneath the clouds building towers of self worth in melted pink and orange skies, cementing bricks of self-love as i am a realm of self-devotion
i collect sadness, like pigmentation, little splodges of unpleasant days, where i have created desolation in the lives of those that i love, now i am running out of unclouded skin free of my sins, and the chaos that i have painted onto people's souls, is ever so manifest
we fall in love through satellites, carrying our words like an orbit sending filtered photographs, and keyboard communication pinging off the closest cell towers, we lust and laugh late until night as the pixels blur into a sunrise, and when signals are unreachable, the silence turns to a blank screen we fall asleep to static turbulence, waiting for the stolen reception until the lithium ions are charged to fall into celestial solicitude again