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Echoes reverbate inside
this blue satellite,
signals of sadness and
ashen butterflies.

It's the little things
that bring nature to life,
smaller still are
the things that **** light.
23w
it's 4 am and i'm still up
in the city of the half-dead
alone with my racing thoughts
insomniac nights are the best
I'm pretty sure I posted this last night.
Sometimes I'll hear your footsteps
in the empty hallway
And your laughter
in the vacant living room

I'll smell your perfume
in the musty closet
And feel your wit
in the silent dinnertime gloom

Sometimes I'll wait for your smile
Standing at the gate at 2:45
And wonder what you're doing, how you're feeling,
and what you cooked last night

So I'll call you up after office hours
but there's nothing to say
Still, just listening to the silence between us
is enough to make my day

I'll lament over the memories we can't make
and the inside jokes we'll never know
The premiers we're missing out on
The feelings I'll never show
                                                            ­          
I know you're doing your best
to protect and shield me always
but all I really want is
a Cadbury and a protective embrace

Because I want to hug you
all the time, everyday
And not just when we're saying goodbye
before you get into your car and drive away


Happy Father's Day.

© Copyright
I miss you.
Balochistan
Tattered and torn

Brother
Forgotten and forlorn

Belief
Cracked like the arid land

Bridge
A hopeless demand

Bomb
Ticks at the rate of your heartbeat

Breath
Becomes heavier and incomplete

Blood
Ironclad? Iron. Ironic.  

Body
Broken and bruised, it’s chronic.

Bury
Under the infected earth

Birth
What is its worth?

A note on the sectarian violence spreading across the nation of Pakistan.
There’s a thin line which extends between
Two far-off hearts of neighbouring lands
And yet we choose to tiptoe
Ropes coiling our minds and keeping us down for
Love prevails but hate is the aim
And making a leap is a thought buried deep beneath
Layers and layers of clots of history
Which freeze our hearts and pick up swords
Piercing skins growing in the same womb
Brains at work to make way
For their own blood's early demise
Burnt bridges were never the need
A soft caress would have done the deed
But we choose the way out;
Discarding heads over mending hearts
And they loved too much but yet flipped the coin,
And hell hath no fury like a brother scorned.
My body hurts
But you don't care

My head aches
But are you there?

You don't understand
The feel so empty and bland

When will you ever love me
Again...
this here
is a saga of a child
lonely and sad
seeking faith in the wild

born of fear
forbidden to love
but loves everything
he sees and touches

claps his hands
but didn't know it's war
growing up was hard
with peace no more

was told of fairy-tales
of an imperil utopia
then given guns
in place of arcadia

the boy remains
a boy no more
with ****** khakee shirts
and bones sore

shown a path to hate
and misery
but tears in his eyes
missing his family

prays to a god
who does not exist
grudges on leaders
and failed politics

finds his savior
in an stranger's bullets
they said it was the enemy
but it was just people

— The End —