Today I was accused to being a bad influence yet again,

Simply because I facilitate the forbidden wants/needs of the people I love,

Simply because I give them a place to get high and vent without being judged,

Simply because I create an aura where they feel free to express themselves in whatever ways they like- modest, humble even ******,

And simply because the ones they love refuse to facilitate their haram (forbidden).

Haram is bad – we all know this

But being human is about passing through all things good and all things bad.

Being a Muslim, most of my choices are haram;

Not properly attired to the laws of my religion,

My speech is not of a young lady with modesty- rather it is defined with sheer profanity,

I rather laugh from my heart even though it’s supposedly a *****’s act,

I refuse to lower my gaze around men; the same men that stole from me

The same men that refused to lower their gaze from me.

I deny myself the potential for love because of the expectation of great dismay

And I drown myself with the 34000 thoughts of what if??!

This poem is becoming a disaster; my thoughts aren’t flowing straight,

I went from bad influence to haram to rebellious to depressing;

What the **** is this **** going on inside my head- it aches with great displeasure.

How do I contain my contradicting self?

Someone help me please, my soul is crying and sobbing for something to fill this void-

The void that is desperately trying to full itself with the acceptance of the people who are hell bent on not accepting me.

Why am I like this? A contradicting ******* disaster

-fir.m

Come and breathe with me.
Close your eyes and feel what I feel.
You cant can you? You cant close them, because we are standing on the edge of a cliff. Your closed eyes would only make you sway. Gravity will call your name and your feet will betray you.
Breathe in the air of disaster. Do you smell its smoke? Its sweet is it not? Its enticing and dangerous and you want to breathe deeper. Your nose is a ****** for the scent.
Feel this wind that sweeps around our barely lifeless bodies. Like mannequins we stand here quietly. Almost like we are invisible. That is how the world feels. People rushing by and around me like the breeze. I watch silently from within my own body unable to control anything on the outside.
I watch others control my own actions. They put me in danger and I let them. Why do I let them? Answer me why do I let them?
Breathe in this truth with me. The truth that we are never controlled by our own will but by the fear from within us. The things we have gone through in the past. The unknown. It takes us by the hand and leads the way. We call out and ask where it is taking us but does it answer? Why would it? I already know.
It takes us to the end.
So breathe with me and we will wait on this cliff edge a little longer for the void to call our names.

you're this weight in my chest
eyes of nightshade i've repressed
but i see you at the street lines
even in the late nights
i can't get you out of my head
when you stare into my soul
i look into your void
the pools of ink in your face
that fill the space
with obsidion stares
that could probably hold stars
like a universe so far
far away.

You didn’t get the chance to breathe fresh air.
You didn’t get the chance to hold my hand.
You didn’t get the chance to meet your dad.
You didn’t get the chance to meet all the people who were excited to see you.
You didn’t even get the chance to tell the world hello.

You were in my belly for 12 weeks.
I didn’t learn about you till week 5 but I loved you all the same.
Your dad and I were so excited, and we did everything we were supposed to.
We got you a crib and clothes, even though we never got the chance to find out your gender.  
We were just so happy we finally got pregnant.

Not enough tears could fill the void you once held in my belly.

We didn’t get the chance to know your gender.
We didn’t get the chance to hold you in our arms.
We didn’t get the chance to name you.
We didn’t get the chance to paint your room.

I had a miscarriage.
It just wasn’t our time.
Miscarriages **** emotionally, physically, and mentally.
The only thing that keeps me going is knowing my grandma is up there holding a new angel in her arms.
You were going to be born in a world of love.
I can’t help but blame myself.
Maybe my body wasn’t healthy enough?
Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed too?
Everyone keeps telling me it isn’t my fault,
But the thoughts are still there.
I just wish I could have held you,
At least once.

I am stuck in the black void of space.
Can't tell if things are falling into place.
It's so dark in here.
Light nowhere near.
No purpose to fulfill.
No suffering to ****.
I live a life so usual.
That my existence feels illusional

Bear the void
Let it teach you
Watch what arises
Watch the fear
Which is lack of trust
Allow something new to be born
Bear the void
Let go