I was killed
Multiple times
In multiple ways
By the same people
At the same place.

killer, i have your blood on my hands
and a pool around me.
no intentions of losing you today
but still i let the gray of sadness
devour me
until it convinces me there’s no one else.
and you were something of a stand-up guy
and i’m a woman who sits down quiet
and makes problems out of her tender relationships.
killer, i have nothing to say to you
after everything. i wished i used you instead
then you could hate me
and bruise my heart
instead of me bruising yours.
i have all these dreams where it goes right
and the ringtone reaches your little line
and the laughter flows like honey from the earth.
killer, i am such a danger to your vibrant fuse, your dance moves.
we are glowing stars blind to each other’s light.
i lie down in a pool of your blood,
ashamed that i had to take the knife
and force an ending upon you.
killer, how did i ever expect to be loved if i
i didn’t even welcome such a thing in?

I've killed that old flame
felt so ashame, I'm to blame
i left to pursue nothing
it kept me running
please, lend me something
a little bit of hope
for me live on and to cope

i wish i never killed you
left you there
    in the darkness's hue

Radio news bulletin in the car
the last item read in those mellifluous tones
is about a seven-year-old boy
struck and killed by a car
in a poor suburb of Wellington.

The protocol around the legal and privacy issues
means it’s “no name, no pack drill”,
but he was someone,
someone’s son, grandson
perhaps even great-grandson.
He had probably had siblings,
definitely friends and playmates.

Somewhere in a house with
inadequate winter heating,
where the household income is
constantly under siege
and life never rises above a struggle,
there is a mother and a father
who bear this greatest grief.

 Andrew M. Bell

We fall asleep, under
The bright and blue

And, we are awake
With worst forlorness

In Kano, all our piektus
Are whining severely and
Our sight fluid, running
Torrentially on our cheeks...

Because, we can't justify
The darkness of that...
What had been done in
Infanticidal burial with
No hand to retaliate, and
Words to express and
Mouth to say and fingers
To indicate....

We stand glued all together
We are sisters and brothers
To seek a justice for mother
And the one who's a father
To bring back their feather

A young Hanifa she had gone
And the manslayer is still here

So,

We bow down to all,
Seeking, a justice call
For Hanifa, the tall...

To rest in peace forever

i was a soul whose life was all about
my own blood, flesh and bones.
i never indulge into your flight,
but you envied my sky
which was offer to me, to fly.
it was you, who compared
yourself to me.
then why you are blaming me
for your choices.
i was fine with my imperfections;
my demons and angels.
just because you couldn't
tackle your negativity,
you had no right to raise your finger
at me, as i never caused your problems.
when all i did was pass by
from your life.
i was a stranger to you.
yet you stabbed me with your
poisonous words.
shot me with your negativity.
cut my wings, by accusing me.
if you couldn't achieved your dreams,
why you killed my dreams?.
was i an easy prey—
or your failure hurt your ego!.

Broken ‘her’, she cried out hard,
Calling for help,
Falling to the ground,
She had accepted her defeat.
Her body went numb,
He was drunk, but he didn’t care,
Forcing her under his oneself,
Ignoring her tears,
He thrusted even harder,
Breaking her soul into pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smirking finally, after he was all done,
Slapping her at last, until the soul left her body completely,
She was not ra*ed, she was killed!

How do you **** a life?

But you do it so well
what expertise in
elegies
the choices
tone, words

you mourn too
sweet little nothings
pitiful stare
buttery
and nice
share a piece of cake
so sugary

and cherry on top
all the facts,
I deleted from my mind
restored back
It is the rush of feelings
too many at the same time

You have squeezed my
Soul out
I am empty
Inside out,
executed in precision
I can never mend
my pieces back.

I am short of breath,
You did it so well,
or am I short of me?