Some verses

Seeing your wounds

Seeing you in so much pain

that you cant even scream

I should feel great

I should feel that kind of satisfaction

when you have won a battle

But honestly

I don’t feel anything

You have gotten what you

inflicted upon yourself

The only best thing I can do

is to leave you

and never come back

Some verses

I sit on the porch one chilly night

 My mind assembles new memories

My wounds are healing

The happy memories shine in my head

And I smile at the irony of it

Source: Some verses

Rich and colorful

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The canvas in front of me is painted

shimmering green and bright orange

It looks kinda  joyful

very different from the usual black and grey

Maybe life has more colors

than the greys in my brain

Or maybe what is in my mind isn’t that real

Who knows?

I just found out that life is more

vibrant than it seems.

Melancholy

Here is my  poem “Melancholy” published in Us magazine, Pakistan.

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No escape

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These blurry hallucinations,

these illusions

are driving me crazy

And this force is tearing

me apart

I wanna scream

but my throat is being strangled

I want to be free

But there is no escape

from the binding forces

that are present within me

I will remember you

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If you go thousands of miles away

I will freeze your image

in my heart

All the memories I made with you

will stand still in my brain

Even when my hair turns grey

piece by piece

I  will remember you

I will run in the hot desert,

in the stormy night

just to get a glimpse of you

piece by piece

I will remember you

Fight

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I didn’t back away from the truth

I stood there firmly

That difficult path

Those harsh meadows

They couldn’t shake me

In this lonely path

I continue to stand

I continue to fight.

In my fingertips

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I can still feel it

in my hands,

in my heart,

deep down in my fingertips

the ferocity of his love,

the tinkling of his touch,

the warmth of his hug

 and the purity of his heart

She

She remained firm facing tough times

They remained cruel, forcing her to surrender

She remained stable, drying her tears

They remained hard, multiplying her sorrow

She remained strong, trying to hold on

They remained brutal, killing her from inside

She remained unshaken, nursing her bruises

They remained harsh, increasing her pain

She remained happy, overcoming her sadness

They remained helpless in killing her happiness

The pain

I cut open my wounds

The blood oozing from the them

giving me sharp  pleasure

The pain feels sacred,

almost spiritual

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