It slowly creeps in the shadows undetected
All the while everything on the surface seems fine
Even as the body fights it becomes subjected
To something sinister that at first seemed so benign

The fatal disease then spreads quickly without control
Destroying and consuming everything in its path
Even though warning signs may whisper it to the soul
The mind doesn’t want to realize it or do the math

The victim becomes brittle at the core, to the bone
Not realizing what it’s done until it’s too late
And all the medicine won’t help because they are prone
To the laws of nature and spirit as they lie in wait

In society the therapy for hate should be love
Compassion and empathy can be infused to endure
For in the final days those who ignored will not get rid of
The pain of wasted time when they could’ve found a cure

Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.

In a society,
There’s a tree called misogyny,
Where its deep roots
Grow into all girls,
Who develop in agony,
Facing judgment that feels relentless,
Much of it unspoken, a harsh irony.
This judgment seeps into our daily strife,
Trapping us within roles that limit our life.
Narrow expectations stifle our dreams,
While society’s pressure bursts at the seams.
We’re told how to act, what to say and wear,
As if our true selves are too much to bear.
Dreams of freedom fuel our inner symphony,
A quest to end this cycle of regulatory authority.
She bears the weight of expectations,
A load shaped by herstory’s complications.
With a heavy heart, she watched the tragedy,
As blame is passed down through each family.
Inheriting struggles, a cycle we see,
Each woman’s journey marked by disparity.
Disappointments linger, like shadows they stay,
A legacy of women woven in silence and gray.
The silence among women she cherished felt heavy,
An unspoken vow that let men be merry
Free from their own responsibility,
Caught in a system that kept them confined,
With “They didn’t know better” echoing in mind.
Hiding complicity in voices suppressed,
In a world where their wisdom was rarely expressed.
Each story unspoken, a weight they all share,
Navigating life with caution and care.
Yet deep in their hearts lies a yearning to be,
More than the shadows of what they could see.
In the silence, a strength that quietly grows,
A call for the change that each woman knows.

Manicure the landscapes of my gaze – a far-off forest whispers
sweet nothings before a lover fades into memory – growing
weary; the taste turns bitter, like rising *****. Lingering sweetness;
the flavour of honey clings to my lips, a hive buzzing with our
fantasies woven in dreams – yet this imagination comes tethered
to a swarm of bees.

A television muse; she’s a show looping in my thoughts,
preying on my moments, I’m praying pretending to be
faithful, my hands are little more faithful than I was to you,
never keeping you in focus.

We must have believed we were creases, yearning to love
beyond the inevitable wrinkles – beautiful, flawed beings;
yet even a beast knows it must seek another to thrive.

How humans are so vile.