“My words have escaped”I whisper to the empty box they bursted openedAt firstI feared they would choketo their first taste of airBut they didn’tI closed my eyesand sighed in reliefThen I stayed silentJust so I could hear them echoJust so I could hold them in my armsJust so I could hear them breatheThey couldn’t standthe…
You are not born with ideology But you will only die without it If you don’t live at all I was born with a nose too small Glasses dangle there for a little And eventually fall off I guess I thought the same would happen To ideology glasses But I was wrong Because they are…
The clock ticks “What makes a poem a poem?” I asked myself as I brushed my teeth I am so overwhelmed My eyes weight heavy There is nothing I would rather do now than go to sleep But I am here The clock ticks As I drown in questions I can’t answer Poetry to me…
“Language is natural”, they say As if there isn’t a few drops of blood on every line I write As if my poems were created out of thin air not early mornings not sleepless nights As if I have never cried over the mediocrity of my work “Language is natural”, they tell me And suddenly…
Her childhood is a blur,
a rootless flower,
a roofless house,
a collection of wistful memories her heart wants to forget
Dear Writer’s Block,
It’s not you, it’s me.
It’s finally me.
I’m not saying I didn’t feel safe hiding on your shadow,
because I did way more than I should.