“I’ll be there in a minute.” I shouted as I heard my brother calling me out. The whole village was gathering around the grand fire that was lit near the whispering trees. Every year, on the eve of the ninth full moon, the whole village was gathered around the fire to share stories and sing the old folk songs. I never knew why but it always soothed my soul in a very bizarre way.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes traced down my dark brown curls sitting on my shoulders down to the pendant of the snake that I was wearing.

My old nanny had gifted it to me this morning. “This was made when you were born, my little angel.” I brushed the fine bronze carving with my fingers. The details of the snake’s skin felt so real. The snake was curled up as if trying to hide in himself. “What’s the snake for, nanny?” I had asked her, flipping the pendant over. There was something about that little piece of jewelry that I could not take my eyes off it.“Do you know that a snake sheds off its skin as it grows a new one?” she had replied softly. “But they don’t just remove the old skin; they also remove the parasites along.”

Her words echoed in some distant part of my mind. “Snakes shed their skins.”

I stepped out under the open sky. The stars were all lined up as if waiting for my arrival. Everybody stopped chattering, even the great fire burning turned silent.

The old nanny broke the motion and moved towards me. “Come, my child”, she welcomed me with a smile. With that everyone lowered their gaze and bent down on their knees. The local women started singing the old folk song that I heard since I was a kid but only now the words made sense to me.

“It’s finally the time for the snake to shed its skin,
on this night, we all gather to welcome our new princess
to whom we vow to obey and please
who’ll rule the kingdom of the whispering trees.”

They told me it's a cruel place.
I should keep my voices down.
They trapped me in this cage
Asked me to not flap my wings around.
Suffocated, I began to bleed
My words out on paper
Which now the world reads.


*You can never imprison a writer.

We all are fighting wars inside us,
as we wear the masks of peace and love.

If you think you broke my heart
Let me tell you that you're wrong darling.

You actually broke yourself
Because in my heart only you were hiding.

Sound of a gun
Echoed deep
While the whole city
Was fast asleep
Screams and cries
And more firing
People injured
While tons of dying
A war for peace
With an unknown rival
Destroying so many families
And leaving them so critical
Why were they killed?
What was there crime?
They were just innocent people
Busy in their lives
Having fear in their hearts
They are still ready to face
Ready to give their life
If it takes to end this blaze
I just pray
That someone hear the pleas
Of the brave survivors
Living in Karachi

tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
drop your pen and drink your inks
stop your words from polluting
the clean slate minds of the youth
let them memorize the ancient rules
This world can't read what you're writing
Arrange a funeral and bury your thinking
Make it quick and be silent
Don't let them know that you're different
You can write? Good for you.
Now go and hide, or else they'll come here too.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
How dare you write
against the tides
about your views
about the lies
about the news
and prostitutes
and ****** abuse?
This world is cruel,
don't overthrow
the rule of men
who can only write
tap-tap* about women rights,
tap-tap and the social issues,
tap-tap and the silent taboos,
tap-tap  and the rich and the poor,
tap-tap and about the schools
which are producing  
brain-washed fools.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
Don't you know? They heard you too
Run for your life, they're chasing you
To erase your words
and silence your voice
To suffocate you
In your own mind
tap-tap, tap-tap
You're still standing here, asking me why?*
Well, you're a threat
to what they possess
the power above all
the power to play god
to decide how we'll live
and where and why
and decide how we are going die.
You're still too young, you haven't seen
How they hide behind the walls
of their own fragile masculinity
and show their strength to scare you away
Ironic how it reflects their own image.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
Now here they are, calling you names
with ***** meanings that they have made
They're pulling you down,
dragging you around,
making sure you'll never make a sound.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap,tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I know
I know
Oh, I know
How hard it is
to suffer all this
a punishment
of their own ****** sins
It makes me wonder
if they even will
punish the angels
on the last day
for writing
down
their *****
*****
mistakes.

The mind said proudly,
"I am more powerful than you, see how I control this human being?"
The heart smiled,
"That's not your power rather your weakness my friend
for real power is controlling the soul which is unseen."

Destroy all the mosques, the temples and the churches.
And this world will itself witness the difference between
the men of faith and the hypocrites.

I saw her daily, getting dressed up for the battle as she wore her armour and polished her swords.
She'd look at a warrior in the mirror and smile, despite all the battle scars which had become her identity.
The white flag had not danced with the wind yet she had already won.

Her name now shines bright in the pages of history.

It took me centuries to find you in the dark
And in a second you lost yourself again.

I open my eyes and the nightmare begins
I can feel the blood flowing in my veins
It's supposed to keep me alive, but is it?
I don't know, I wish it did.
They tell me I need blood transfusion
medicines and all those supplies.
All that is out of my reach for I belong to
a poor family and prices are too high.
I had dreams to be something great as well
but now I dream to just survive.
It's a battle hard for a kid like me
Is there someone to help me fight?

I close my eyes and the world seems peaceful
for the thought of dying escapes my mind.

The angel had me in his arms safely,
As we made our way down to the world.
He caressed my cheek and smiled at me,
"You're God's most beautiful creation, little one."

I opened my eyes ready to live;
Feeling that I was something special.
But the disappointed looks made me cry,
"Oh well, it's a baby girl."

I looked around to find that angel,
But he had left me and flown away.
A man came and consoled my parents,
"It's okay, must have been a bad day."

Since childhood I am always labeled
On every step of my life,
"You're a burden, the unlucky one."
Every time with that, I was buried alive.

It's the cowards who can't accept the fact
And uses a woman for his desires.
They hide their faces when their daughter is born
While they feel manly beating up their wives.

I don't need sympathy on being a woman,
I may look delicate but I am strong inside.
I spit on their cursed faces and thoughts
**For I am a woman; the symbol of pride.

Your body is not just a container for your souls; it is something more than that.
Your body is a place to worship for the saints; it should be clean and pure.
Your body is a hell for the sinners; it should be burning.
Your body is a beautiful memory for the forgotten; it should be colorful.
Your body is a home to the lost; it should be warm and polite.
Your body is a paradise for the messed up; it should be peaceful.
Your body is a fire for the daring; it should be wild.
Your body is a maze for the wanderers; it should be full of wonders.
Your body is a torch for the blind; it should be a guide.


But.


At the end of the day,


Your body is all you have and it should be yours.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you what you don't know about them.
They are broken. Broken and used over and over again.
Still they are young at hearts and ready to risk everything that's left of them.
They are immature yet their stories will make you feel like some seventy year old
for they have more to tell than you. They might not have seen this world
but they have felt it with all their hearts
and they have tasted young love on the tips of their tongues in those dark rooms with the scent of whiskey.
"Irrational." you say? Love does not need any eyes to see.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you that they have nothing ahead of them
yet they have their whole lives planned out joining the stars at night
stupid it may seem but your reality is a non-existent dot in front of their dreams
and they look useless wasting their times but listen to them once. I dare you. Listen to them and you'll realize
what a different universe lies inside them.
Their words will take you places and you'll lose yourself to their tales.
Tales that are from all over the world, about every different tribe, with a new character every time.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you that they won't give up. They won't sit back
they are like a huge clan and they are ready to live. Live not just survive.
They are the bad fish that ruins the whole pond yet still are sold in the highest price.
They will not leave any empty gaps rather they will leave a whole legacy behind.
And their death won't be saddening for anyone. Not you. Not me. Not themselves even.
Their death will be like a celebration. Like fireworks in the night sky.
Yes, that's right. Their deaths will be the marking of another great life.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you what you don't know about them.
Look at their smiles and then peak inside.
Sir, I bet you, you'll feel like a little child.

Sound of a gun echoed deep
while the whole city was fast asleep
screams and cries and more firing
people injured while tons of dying
A war for peace with an unknown rival
destroying so many families and leaving them so critical
Why were they killed? What was there crime?
They were just innocent people busy in their lives.
Having fear in their hearts, they are still ready to give their lives.
If that is what it takes to end this blaze.
I just pray that someone hear the pleas
of the brave survivors living in Karachi.

i am not a person
i am not a thing
i am a path, a way of living
i am a set of rules to follow, a religion to believe
i am a world changing idea, a beautiful dream
i am a genre of another dimension,
a painting with another meaning
i am not a person
i am not a thing

I have lived a thousand lives and died a million deaths.
And somewhere in between, I finally found myself.

i read a poem that he wrote a few days back
and i realized how no one understood his words
i wanted to tell him that i still remembered his scars
i wanted to tell him that i knew whom he wrote it for

with every rhyme that he had knitted,
with every full stop that he had added
i knew exactly what he wanted to share
i knew exactly what he wanted hid in layers.

his poem was nothing but a cluster of words
that felt like a secret message to me.
his poem was nothing but a confession at 2 am
that felt like a desperate and helpless plea.

he tells me to **** my fears
i try, i try my best to **** them
i lean over them in the darkness of the night
thinking to stab them
with the sharpest of the knives
i hold it tightly in my hand
i expect them to put up a fight
but they don't, they do nothing at all
and i realize that i cannot **** them
i cannot **** something that has been
a part of me since the beginning
so i pull up the trunk from under the bed
and lock them away and tell them to be quite.

he tells me again to **** all my fears
i tell him they are dead, yes i lie
he buys it easily and i secretly smile

i hate my fears yet they feel like the only thing
that is truly mine.

Lavenders.
I looked at them and wondered
if I could ever touch them.
Lavenders.
I sigh
for they remind me of you.

Life is short. That is what they all say. We all are going to die, someday. It’s all true. It’s all okay. Imagine that stranger girl you meet every day in the bus stops coming one day. Imagine the guard you see every day on the gate stop being there one day. Imagine the class’s loser disappears without anyone knowing. Imagine your cranky neighbour stops coming out in the street one day. Imagine the people around you start disappearing one by one. Imagine you lose someone close to you all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone with no friend, no stranger, and no loved one to give you a shoulder. Imagine. Just imagine once.
Now imagine again. Imagine smiling at that stranger girl you meet every day and making her smile back before she dies. Imagine thanking the guard you see every day on the gate before he dies. Imagine helping the class’s loser before he disappears forever. Imagine not shouting back and forgiving the cranky neighbour on the street before he leaves everyone. Imagine telling a close one that you love them before you lose them all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone but with memories, peace, and satisfaction of doing the dead good in their life.
We tribute the dead, we cry for them, we remember them, and we love them but we never seem to care about the living. We never make them feel that we need them until one day we lose them.
Imagine. Imagine again. Imagine one day you die. Imagine if you had not been nice to anyone who would show up on your funeral? Who would shed a tear and cry? Imagine how would you feel leaving someone with harsh memories and words that cannot be taken back? Imagine will your soul be at peace knowing all those people you have hurt? Imagine will you wish for another chance at life?
You have a life, right now. And so does the people around you. Imagine before someone dies.

There is a cup of wine in this barren dessert
But this world prohibits me to take a sip
I am a thirsty man, it gives me pleasure
But in the state of oblivion, I have sinned.

One sip of wine is what draws the line
One sip of wine is what makes this world decide
whether I am a pious person, sliding down the shiny pearls
or a drunken lover, whirling in circles.

There is no name for the union of fire and water
They just create tales about the two poor lovers
And when they unite, evaporation is only witnessed
Instead of the state in which they both enter.

Such is the working of this wonderful Earth
Where seeing is believing, and believing creates Trust
Whatever is veiled, does not exists
Such is love, a long lost art
And this world is lacking artists.

i found myself walking towards you blindly
there was no end, there was no start
just you and my stupid heart.

I want death to reach out for me
in the most romantic way
but
take my soul after
making me suffer and beg for it.

You ask, why?

So that when I meet the Lord,
I can tell Him that
you weren't the one
who had hurt me the most.

Like a wave kissing the shore for a little time
and then leaving to return to the ocean,
He came into her life and touched her soul.
Now she sits by the shore waiting for him.

we are the kids who grew up in old wine bottles
keeping ourselves out in the open
and calling the light breeze,
entering through the rim,  
our secret freedom

we are the kids who grew up during the war times
keeping ourselves hidden under beds
and reciting all the prayers
which we had learned
while listening to the guns fire

we are the kids who grew up holding ourselves tightly
making sure our masks don't fall off
and we don't break apart
like we always have been
(like we truly are)

I sat on the edge as the ship sailed through one of the deadliest oceans. I saw the waves dancing wildly with the wind while the sky was furiously crying.
He came and handed me a bottle of wine so I could get drunk till I lose myself. And I did as he sat with me, flirting around. He unstrapped all my weights and removed all the regrets making me realize what I had been missing all my life.
As the empty bottle rolled on the wooden floor, he took me away with him to an unknown yet peaceful place where I truly belonged.  


My lifeless body went down with the ship as I made love with death.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot see through the holes which are drilled
in the walls you have erected around yourself.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot feel you struggling to keep yourself away
from all the memories for which you (and I) fell.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot hear your heart beating like a drum
because you're still in love and you can't tell.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot realize the pain that you're in
when you try to hard to forget my existence.

The caterpillar has just blossomed out of the cocoon
There's a whole world for it to explore, if you let it fly
She's just the same, fluttering her wings for the flight
Don't cut them off; she's s child not bride.

Too young to understand what's happening to her
She can see all her dreams crashing down in front of her eyes.
Let her play with dolls not kids of her own
Don't ****** away her childhood; she's a child not bride.

She's too scared to even speak up for herself.
As you're putting up her piggy bank of wishes up for a price
A flew jingling coins for you is the clanking of the chains for her.
Don't sell her off like this; she's a child not bride.

She just wants to escape from the nightmare but sadly
The mason jar is too hard to break down for the little butterfly.
She weeps now to turn back into the caterpillar she once was
for she just wants to be a child not bride.

We are just a couple of teenagers
with our dreams wild like our hearts.
We don't go with the flow or according
to the customs of our society.
We live for freedom,
we live for ourselves,
we live for living.
And we'll do everything and
anything that we are told not to.
We'll smoke and get high
We'll run and attempt to fly.
We'll wear our hearts on our sleeves.
Let it break down, break down into a million pieces.
And then we'll search different ways
to mend it and satisfy ourselves with
lies and more wine.
But don't worry for us, we'll survive.
Don't waste your time thinking,
"What are they going to do?"
for we will fall down and rise up again
we'll discover the whole universe
on our own.
So Ma'am, let us go like the summer wind
but never forget us.
We are just a couple of wild teenagers.

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we were born in those class rooms
and jokes and those smiles
we were born between those two years
God knows we had to fly
we shared memories,
filled with laughter and cries
we were born together on the same day
we were narcotic nine

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we lived in those moments
we lived like a new born child
who knew the world was harsh
who knew it was the last time
God know, I swear He knows
we were meant to shine.

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we were a family, born and raised together
we were a family, bonded by the time
oh God, oh God, please listen to our prayers
oh God, oh God, please listen to our cries

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please hide us away,
please bring back the time
we were meant to stay
together till we'd die
cause mama we were just born yesterday
cause mama we were just born yesterday

I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.
Holding my regular cappuccino topped with foam milk
I stared blankly into the cup hoping something to cross my mind.

The aroma of the coffee reminded me of some blurry memories
And the dark brown color seemed like the color of his eyes.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

The warmth of the cup that gave me chills yet comforted me
were a proof how everything went back to him every time.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

The bitter sip traveled down my throat with
a pinching effect but it felt so *******, to my surprise.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

I licked the last bits of the foam from my lips, oh that delight!
I smiled to myself as I placed the empty cup back on the table.
I sat there in a coffee shop, satisfied on a winter's night.

O you Human, ask yourself,
What does this world mean to you?
Is it a garden or a dessert?
Is it hope or despair?
Is it love or hatred?

Remember, your world is
your own reflection.

Tonight I am sitting around the fire that I lit
by burning all those poems I wrote for you.
And I swear it looks so beautiful as the flames
touch the stars just like I thought
my words would touch your heart.

I hope you think of me every time you kiss someone else.
And when you do, remember honey
It's a curse from which you can never escape.

This is the last poem I'll ever write as a 19 year old
I don't know if I should summarize the years I have spent
Or talk about the future and what lies ahead.
It's not easy to write anymore.
Words, they just keep slipping
like the string of a helium balloon
that I always jumped to hold, as a kid
but it would always fly away
just after touching the tips of my fingers
making me realize that I was almost there.
Almost.
Almost but never really there.
And I'd look at the balloon flying away
slowly turning into a dot
before forever being a part of the sky
And I'd wonder. I'd always wonder if I could just
let go of my strings one day
and fly away....
Would I be able to escape this place?
Would I be able to reunite with the balloon someday?
But little did I know that
letting go wasn't so easy.
It was much more than opening your fingers
and letting it fly away with the wind.
The strings which held me down were
wrapped around my finger tightly
you know, like we used to tie a rubber band
around our fingers just to stop the blood
from flowing in our veins and making our skin red.
It was just like that.
And letting the strings go meant
letting them cut through my skin
and leave marks
as a reminder that I once held onto something
or someone
too strongly between my fingers (and in my heart).

So I sit here now as I remember it all in my head
trying to decide what to share with my pen.
Not sure if this time would matter or not
as I whisper under my breath,
"Almost there, almost"

She made him paint with words again
And he used those words to dig her grave.

misfit wanderers lost in their dreams
collecting broken pieces
gluing them with words.

masters in the art of being faceless
singing the songs
of the unheard.

silent souls affected in tragic ways
seeking a painful solace
drowning themselves in the flood.

Bloodshed
Destruction
Cries
Terrorism
Changed her life
Darkness all around
All alone
She asked herself
"Am i dead or alive?"

She's a poem that I like to read over and over again on these lonely nights when I have nothing else to do.
I have her best verses tattooed on my skin in form of scars that I can't remove.
And whenever I am kneeling in the pool of my own tears, she's the prayer that I only know.

She's a poem that I like to read over and over again till I lose myself into the words that were once mine but no more.

You were like the summer that kept me warm

And now I am knitting sweaters to feel you again.

The sky roared outside as if the world was ending. She knocked on stranger's doors for help hoping someone would take her in and provide her some shelter for the night.
Deprived of sleep, he was awake, watching the news when he heard someone knocking his door. He went to open it and was surprised to see her standing in front of him asking for help. He invited her inside and gave her a towel to dry off as he prepared some hot chocolate for both of them. She's so young, he thought. Must be a lucky night.
When he returned, he found her looking at his old pictures hanging on the wall. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "Nothing. You have a beautiful family" she smiled. "Had." he corrected.


The thunderstorm came to rest as she dragged his body in the backyard and whispered, "Thank you for the hot chocolate daddy. It was just as I remembered from my childhood memory, before you left us."

I read all this poetry and it haunts me
Like an old lover or a dead friend
I pretend that I don't know the words
While they **** me inside
Because deep down I know
I have lost them
And they cannot be mine.

Read
till the words
are tattooed on your skin
and the ink is absorbed in your blood.

Read
till the stories
are your reality
and the characters make you fall in love.

Read
till every page
is familiar to you
Like your arteries and veins.

Read
till the last breath.
Then pick up a new book
And live again.

The demons got me in that alley at last.
I could feel the weight on my body as they entered.
That pain they caused made me want to scream.
My whole body twisted, stiffened and surrendered.

I struggled with my own self to stop the transformation
But my eyes had turned hollow, pitch black.
The sunlight vanished and darkness took over everything.
Then emerged a shadow from fire and ash.

It was Satan himself, the smokeless fire.
He walked up to my feeble body and smiled.
"Don't worry my lady," he consoled warmly
"Tonight you'll be served as my human sacrifice."

It was like getting a second chance to live
But I chose to face death again.
I guess that was my addiction.