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Jiya Jan 2018
Leave me alone, on the ground.
Please, don’t let me stand.
Just walk away and let me dream.

Don’t let me defend my home, myself or my clothes.
It would be easier for me, if you let go.
You already have your words and your knife.
Why don’t you use their blades.
Are you scared? Why? There's no need to fret.
I won’t tell anyone what you did. How could I?

That’s right, walk away.
Don’t look back at me, at the cuts left in my skin and soul.
You made those cuts with your two daggers.
I’m not mad at you. Just disappointed you listened to my selfish words.
Now you leave.
Now I die.
Jiya Jan 2018
father is at work
mother feels her hurt
father washes pain away with red smelling drinks
mother with her drugs
father is never here
mother is always here
the way the earth turns, they’re still both the light in my world.
Jiya Jan 2018
A pane of glass whispers to me
The sound soothing with each cut to the skin
It says ‘I’m your friend!’, as it goes deeper into my body
It slowly reaches my mind, with little slits forming in the matter
What have you done my friend?
What have you done...

— The End —