Category: Poetry

Shouting had become a trigger to me.
I think because it was always a harbinger of abuse to come.
The way your voice rattled my nerves
and left a ringing in my ears,
it had always been accompanied by a hit to my face.
Your voice held so much anger and spite and hate
that it left wounds so deep that I developed scars.
And what’s worse were the blows that never ceased as long as your voice continued to deafen me.
Even when I hadn’t done anything, that voice of yours came for me.
And no matter how much I’d try to shake myself of the past,
trying to prove that I am not the scars you left on me,
the memory of your voice will forever haunt me
because even my demons cower
when I hear the ringing in my ear.

I dream with my eyes wide open
because sleep and I
can never find each other.

A paper heart
torn to pieces;
A heart of glass
dropped and shattered;
An ice for a heart
frostbite ensued;
A stone placed in her chest
carved but cracked;
oh, how she tried
to build a heart that would last
but she could never seem to find
the right material.

A smile hides so much –
her smile was so wide,
no one could have guessed
that she was trying to rebuild
a shattered life.

She’s the kind of person
who refuses to cry
or show any sort of weakness
in the presence of anyone
but herself.

She was a star
that shone so bright in the sky,
her light was breath-taking.

She was the most beautiful
right before she was gone
forever.

Her death was sudden,
and like a black hole
it destroyed everything around it.

When I was screaming for help,
You told me that I just needed to learn to swim.
When I started to sink,
You threw me a glance and told me to float.

Now that I’ve sunk,
You’re frantically looking for me
But you won’t find me in time
Because I would’ve drowned by then.

I could feel it
the weight of expectations
crushing me,
suffocating me;
It’s like I’m being buried alive.

At night,
My demons hold me close
and sing me haunting lullabies.
And I’ve become so comfortable
in their cold, dead embrace
that your vitality is too much for me.

A part of me dies
every time I ask for help,
and am ignored,
ridiculed
or belittled for asking for it.

And it discombobulates me greatly
when you ask me
why I never asked for help…