Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sabila Siddiqui Nov 2018
I kept it in;
the words,
the pain,
the sea lapping against the **** walls
constantly urging to spill.

But I silenced the crashing waves,
muted my voice box
while it was hurting me.

I was internally raging and bleeding
but there were no bruises,
scars or lines for you to read.
Just a plastered smile on my face
while I was sulking internally.

I was choking on the words within me
Hoping my feelings would drown
Hoping that I would forget
But I never did.

They lived
ebbing and flowing through my veins
Making me feel Inhibited and limited
Till it broke open and rained down.

No one could see
Till the day tears started to roll down my cheeks
And that's when everything started
to come down as ashes
words and bullets.
Sabila Siddiqui Aug 2018
You notice the
bruises of many hues
painted across the ****** canvas
reflecting through the shade of mood.

You ask what happened?
But this question
would require me to break open the surface;
permeate my skin
for you to dissect,
explore the source
analyse and
do the autopsy of my past.

But I am not ready to show you
more than the bleed
that is close to the surface
threatening to break.
Sabila Siddiqui Dec 2018
Absorbing the pain
letting nothing spill.
I feel the alluring darkness
enwrapping me with its wings.
Overriding my words
by the whispers in my head;
making me push people away
to keep them at bay.
I guess this is how darkness wins
by telling you to keep it all
to yourself.
Tom Mar 2018
to the walls
you cling
scared you'll drown
if you reveal
your sin

so it crawls deeper
until it haunts you
no good came from bottling up your secrets and emotions
A child was borne from a woman who was once very bright
When she entered this world, the mother's hair was dark as night
You could say that she was changed, after she had me
Her so cruel and dark, how couldn't I see?

With eyes so clouded and a sickly sweet smile she lies
To herself, to everyone around her, none the wise
Her child hating to come home because of what might wait there
That fake smile will be gone, and that black soul laid bare.

What happened, how did she become this way?
Staring at her child with a smile once bright as day
Is it my fault the child wonders, and just what could it mean?
Will my soul turn just as black, so unable to be seen?

Will I hide myself forever out of the fear of what I could be?
A heart so dark and hated that I would bury it deep
Never looking in the mirror because I'm afraid that I'll see
Hair as dark as night and a smile that's black and bleeds.
Light House Feb 2017
On archery:

Upon release -- without a proper arrow -- unleashed, stored potential-energy
will quake about either limb of the bow.  This kind of transference is known as a dry fire, & can sometimes rage ..till the arrow-less bow shatters.

This is what can occur when there is no place to send bottled-force.
..It needs room to escape, matching inch for inch the distance
covered had an arrow been shot into the sky, fired at the ground,
or sent down range.  ...That can sometimes be a lot ....of distance.... make up.
Light House Aug 2016
...I would let it all out.

I wish I had a punching bag -
I would punch, breathe, & shout.

I would go-on & on & on & on
bout after bout after bout -
& then I would go- on,
another ninety rounds.

Clout after clout after clout.
until I broke the chain
with a jab, or hook, or uppercut –
with an arm like a train.

I wish I had a punching bag….
I’d finish it with a kick,
to its chest -- like a brick --
just like a crane.

For I am the rain….
Now let me end this drought!
Enough is enough – 1, 2, 3, 4….
I win.

              by total-knockout.
Ryan Feb 2015
It's rather peculiar how quickly people open up to me, given how much I keep bottled inside myself.

Thoroughly torturing myself with contemplation, I try to break through the mental barrier of who I am daily.

Years of norms that are anything but inclusive or supporting keep me held back, confused and feeling alone.

Someday soon I will be me. Someday soon they will see me.

I will not be

— The End —