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Jan 2021 · 71
Why?
Tamia Pillay Jan 2021
Why aren't my hands shaky?
Why can't I cry?
Why isn't there a drop of blood?
Why do I have this life?

My eyes hurt from holding back.
My skin bruises without oozing.
Just lump lines with no cut.
Just sore eyes with no tears.

One hectic love story.
Never-ending for me.
Hes still on the call.
Hearing me breath.

No feelings for each other.
But still I want to hear his voice.
No caring, no loving.
But still I want him to hold me.
Jan 2021 · 182
All of the above
Tamia Pillay Jan 2021
Why can't I cry?
Why can't I bleed?
What's holding me back?
Usually I would plead.

My eyes feel heavy,
As I lie on my bed.
Reading James Dawson,
Wishing I was dead.

I guess I am Polly,
The one that would scar.
Or maybe I am Victoria,
Who hangs out at the bar.

But sometimes I feel Beasley,
Sassy with no care.
Although in realty I'm just a Daisy,
Empty stomach and brittle hair.

Freya, the geek?
Can never be me.
Though I fancy an Alice and Alex,
Whose love was so free.
Jan 2021 · 59
Middle
Tamia Pillay Jan 2021
I'm stuck in the middle,
In between two.
Choices await me,
Yet I don't know what to do.

If an essay was to be written,
In comparison that is.
My feelings would be divided,
To the both I dearly miss.

One smells like lavender,
One smells like rose.
Sometimes I wish I was Bella,
Who was confident in who she chose.

If lavender was a werewolf,
I would rest warmly in his arms.
Rose would be a blood-sucker,
Who would draw me in with his charms.

Unfortunately for me,
My life isn't twilight.
My scents aren't characters
It's my real feelings I need to highlight.
Jan 2021 · 59
Again
Tamia Pillay Jan 2021
I started cutting again,
Feels good being back.
From the beginning I will go,
This time I won't slack.

I'll go deeper with time,
Not across the road.
But down the lane,
I need to off load.

You'll see my pain,
You'll hear my cries.
You'll realize,
I didn't speak any lies.
Jan 2021 · 67
I am a woman
Tamia Pillay Jan 2021
I wear suits and ties,
I speak a few lies.
They call me a spokesman
Yet I am a woman.

I capture beautiful shots,
Of birds and bees and moths.
They call me a cameraman,
Yet I am a woman.

Countless guns and killings too,
I shoot my prey with only a few.
They call me a gunsman,
Yet I am a woman.

I catch politicians and bad guys,
Put them behind bars for countless lies.
They call me a policeman,
Yet I am a woman.

I give you pointless advice,
On products I advertise.
They call me a salesman,
Yet I am a woman.

I distinguish high flames,
Save your cat and your frames.
They call me a fireman,
Yet I am a woman.

We are talented, we are strong,
Can change a tyre and win at beer pong.
Stop condescending with your so-called power,
We're built like iron not a delicate flower.

— The End —