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میں ھوں اب بوڑھا مجھے دیکھ تو لو
مغرب کا اب کوڑھا مجھے دیکھ تو لو
میں دیکھ چکا ھوں اٹھتی ھے جوانی
اب روئے جوانی مجھے دیکھ تو لو
ادوار ہیں پنہاں کئی آنکھ میں میری
آنکھوں میں روانی مجھے دیکھ تو لو
تھی روش بھی میری یوں جاتے رہنا
اب بجھتی آنکھیں مجھے دیکھ تو لو
کچھ سمجھ نہ آیا جو کہتا ھوں اب
ھے سمجھ نے مارا مجھے دیکھ تو لو
 Dec 2019 Melody
Christian Ek
Fights break out within every person.
Everyone has a battle they need to win.
Overcoming trials and tribulations;
It is hard to lose a loved one or to get rid of a traumatizing memory.
Some are running, some have stood their ground and some have lost their way.
I remember this when I smile, I remember this when I bring joy into people's day or inspire them to try something new and tell them to stay positive.
Because I've been there too.
And I don't want you to fight this battle alone like I did.
Until she came along and saved me with a smile and began to believe in me.
Yes, I'm a girl and I'm not trying to justify my body language nor am I positioning the rights of a feminist on the top, but
Yes, I was questioned always, even when I was right.
Subservience was legitimized as my trait ever since I felt this world.
Every time when I was buckled under by his lecherous eyes, I was asked to adjust my dupatta well.
Every action of mine substantiated the height to which I'll hold the name of my family.
I was asked to cross legs while sitting, speak amicably, yet not solitously.
Every time I'd to hide my period stain like a ****** blot.
I was asked to gallop my cramps because letting it out is a bitter sin.
Yes, I get my body scanned by their lewd gaze day in and out even when I put my baggiest of clothes on.
Yes, I'm a girl, and I have beautiful synonyms, call me maal, patola, bomb, *****, *** or a girl? May be, let yourself decide.
Yes, I'm questioned on the extension of the Roti's that I make and the smiles that I couldn't fake.
Yes, I'm a girl and I'll stand, and question your authority if it calls for, call me stubborn. Okay!
Remember, I'm a girl, and if you accuse me of being a feminist if I know, and can raise my tone up and against your authority, humanism needs to be checked then.
 Dec 2019 Melody
No, she wasn't afraid of death.
And why would she?
Her heart was so  wild,
that even the grim reaper would fall in love.
women can be anything she wants.
 Dec 2019 Melody
Eric the Red
 Dec 2019 Melody
Eric the Red
A man who:
Takes pictures of himself
Won’t have the time for you

A man who:
Leaves love notes on
Underneath your coffee cup
Will love you when
You have nothing

A man who:
Declares he’s a great father
For all to see

A man who:
Tells his children
Over the phone
Next to their bed
Kisses them good night
Where no one can see or hear
Truly is
A decent man

A man who:
Doesn’t make promises
But shows over
His worth
His character
Is someone to know

A man who:
Makes mistakes
But tries his damndest
To make amends
May not see
Eye to eye
With all
Respects the process
Of understanding
Each other

A man who:
Writes poetry anonymously
Posts it for the world to
Is an enigma
 Dec 2019 Melody
i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again
Go ahead
hold me a little longer
than usual.
You say to me,
without using any
words at all,
"it should have been me,
its still me."
Like i don't already see
those sky blue eyes
every time i close my own.
Because we're still holding
on to god knows what.
Because it is you
and it will always be you.
 Dec 2019 Melody
Seven Years
 Dec 2019 Melody
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
 Dec 2019 Melody
“Better off dead”
Floating around aimless
In the empty halls
Echoing off the raised ceiling
And bouncing off
Whitewashed walls

That’s what I hear
Late at night
When I wish I could disappear
 Dec 2019 Melody
 Dec 2019 Melody
Under the blankets
Never shaking them off
In the depths of my mattress
Needing more than this
Stuck in my bed
Perpetually in a fog
Interested in nothing in particular
Remembering that there’s no point in trying
Every day when eventually I’ll just be
The name of these type of poems is totally escaping me right now, but the first letter of each line spells out “uninspired” when you put them together. Not really a good poem honestly, but it’s all I can offer right now. I feel so drained of creativity.
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