The snakes sent by Satan,
Slither past our skin.
But you and I are special -
You and I are beyond sin.

The apple is forbidden,
But you and I have set our eyes,
On something that is much beyond
The realm of Paradise.

Everything that we hold dear -
Destroys us.

We keep holding on.

They gazed in wonder at the sky -
Colors splashed across the canvas;
Violet, blue, indigo,
Green, orange, red, yellow.
They called it picturesque, and then,
Went home to appreciate,
A man who had closed all gates,
On groups of people
Based on race,
Based on color,
Based on faith.
The hues of their skin were not
Enough to secure a place,
Within a world they sought to start
A new life, but they forgot -
The darker shades of their skin,
Made them kindred
To all sin,
Made it fair
To prevent
Any soul from stepping in.

Color, now, is an abuse,
If your skin,
Is all the wrong hues.

I had a wound,
It hurt a lot.
But it gave me,
Each poem I've got.

Then one day,
I taped it up.
My writing, now,
Was not enough.

The wound and I,
Ironically -
Had to work,
In harmony.

I pressed the wound,
For it to bleed.
The words flowed out,
For all to read.

Her body was battered. Any form of liquid within her circulation was stained red. It was pouring out from within her - profusely, incessantly. It overflowed out of wounds and inundated every crevice of her aching body.

She was dying.

The surface of her body was bruised. There were wounds that ran deeper than medicine could fix. Others were in the process of forming. She was weeping with a wail that could be heard loud and clear.

Her children sat watching idly.

One was ignorant, one in denial. One was oblivious. One was vigilant, observing silently.

Her dying body had spectators.

Slowly, parts of her started to lie still while others were in the process of following suit.

The continents came crashing down. The waves inside her wrecked the land she held. The jolts of her body sent earthquakes down the entire room.

Her children were disturbed for a while, but soon, they carried on with their routine. For them - it isn't over till it's over.

So she closed her eyes and let her body die. She gave up. She felt parts of her crash and burn. It was the end. It was time to go.

If you're lost,
Deep in thought,
And you can't find your way.
Give me your hand,
I'll help you stand,
Against every dismay.

If you can't find,
The peace of mind,
That you need to go on.
I'll share mine,
For, no mind,
Should ever be forlorn.

There is no cause,
There never was,
To go through life alone.
Together we'll go,
Hit the road,
To our way back home.

Like water held back
By reservoirs.
Like a reckless tsunami
Leaving no survivors.

Like ferocious winds
Engulfing small cities.
Like a broken mind
Trying to be less gritty.

Like a torn out page,
With a lot to say.
Like immense outrage,
Finding its way.

Like oceans with worlds
Hidden beneath.
Like a universe - vast
But also discreet.

Like pen to paper,
No holding back.
Like a mind unleashing
An open attack.

Words that are struggling,
Constantly fighting -
To see light of day,
Such is her writing.