You are a dementor disguised as an anthropoid
Who somehow escaped the “Potter world” and invaded mine.
You are the foulest creature populating my existence.
You are the pus dipping off my visage.
A tumor borne out of my lungs
blocking my pulmonary tract
ripping me off, oxygen.
I want to stop that air,
the air you exhale.
I’ve a problem with it. Because it messes with my peace like an obstinate perpetrator, a conservative orthodox fundamentalist
expunging my happiness.
The flux of your malign looks and the gale of your laughter causes me to implode. Yes! Implode cause I am too naive for an explosion.
Again my bad.
You know this ‘gullibility” asphyxiates my soul
and hamstrings my wants.
You know, Infact you know,your brusque attitude and spiteful countenance makes you less of a human and more of a connoisseur ruffian breeding in my insecurities.
I’ve burned down your wretched effigy
in my nightmares.
But those bloody ashes splattered when my tears rained down on them and occupied my wounds.
My wounds which were magnets to your remains.
My wounds which reincarnated your simulation.
How deplorable and taxing it is to
carry your everlasting footprint on my psyche
eroding my mental stability.
I often wonder how slowly you held my hands
with all love and care and promised protection
suddenly leashed them with your autocracy,
and sabotaged my honor in the hostel wing and college corridors.
you son of a demon!
And how could I be so naive to give you my crown of self respect.
I didn’t give it to you.
Don’t you dare to think it as a gift.
You robbed it
and persecuted it in front of its owner.
How dare you!
How dare you scragg my talent.
How dare you shackle my free tongue.
How dare you cage my sleep.
How dare you handicap my emotions.
How dare you test my fortitude.
How dare you sprawl your poison in my veins.
You flounder in the depths of ignorance.
You are an affront to humanness.
A despised creature, a carrion
consecrated to Satan.
You stink like a dead swine.
I’ll skin you!
I so yearn to devour on your contorted skeleton and
piss on the etchings of your grave
to cover it with my filth as you covered me with yours.
I’ll ask God to set all the mountains in motion behind you
and burst the earth underneath you with each step you raise.
And gulp you with each movement you make.
I’ll order the sky to open its gate and
let paradise fall on you
so that its ground be your cemetery.
Just like my happiness is buried beneath my soul….
My soul which is brimmed with echo of your scoffs and jeers.
I wanna consume you raw,
Cause I want to know how scrumptious I was to your taste buds.
Do you know why?
Because in each cell of your body,
I’ll find my traces…
Our pain becomes their power.
Speak out as if your tongue has been stitched back again in your mouth.
Speak out as if you have the sweetest voice in your town.
Speak out as if your words can make all the baddies frown.
Speak out with an entirely new confidence that you’ve grown.
Speak out as if the grace of your words will efface all the evil from the world.
Speak out as if the air from your vocal cord can pacify all the cyclones.
Speak out as if the vibrations your voice produce makes the molecules of air dance.
Speak out as if your sentences can seal all those dirty wounds.
Speak out as if everyone is longing to hear you, even the unborn in the womb.
Speak out even if you are a prisoner of war.
Speak out to God as if it’s your last day in the church or mosque.
Speak out your thoughts, desires, pleasures, mishaps and delights.
Dude! Speak out your life.
Suck those dead memories from the dark graves of your mind.
Give them your voice.
Because you need to be heard
Akin to a mother who HAS to endure pain to give birth to her child, you too have to endure pain to give birth to your words.
You too have to deliver them on paper when you can’t bear them inside you.
Your thoughts should be drenched in ink, like a new born who’s drenched in blood.
You ain’t “just” a writer.
You are a “mother”of your blotted words.
Also check my story : https://hfatimafantacies.wordpress.com/2018/02/03/she-is-a-bitch-story-time/
The day I was born,
the wind marched fast,
the sky turned grey
and the ocean despaired.
Clouds wrapped the sun
and groaned in high frequency.
Maimed the trees
by throwing electricity.
The water dragged
out of the edge,
assaulting the buildings
and the humans within.
There was a little kid who came
to meet me,
as he approached
I engulfed him completely.
After sometime, I started losing my breath
Maybe there was going to be a heart attack.
The sun peeped through
as the clouds gave way.
I bounced in the air
and flew away.
I was the storm,
as they say.
When things go wrong
And your life is tough
When the moon loses its shine
And the sun sheds its charm
You gasp and gape
at destiny’s face.
Cursing the destined
to be your fate.
You need to know,
the circumstances you are in,
will help you grow
and atone your sins.
You need to know,
for a flower to bloom tomorrow,
it first has to survive the
storm of this night.
So don’t be sad
Rather be a little brave
Climb up the mountains which have been
in your life’s track
with valour and with might.
I fight like a girl who refuses to be a victim.
I fight like a girl who’s tired of being ignored, humored, beaten or raped.
I fight like a girl who’s sick of not being taken seriously.
I fight like a girl who’s been pushed too far.
I fight like a girl who offers and demands respect.
I fight like a girl who has a lifetime of anger, strength, and pride pent up in her girly body.
I fight like a girl who fights back.
If I should die,
And you should live,
And time should gurgle on,
And morn should beam,
And noon should burn,
As it has usual done;