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Afia Jul 2018
A fierce growl shattered the vampire's coffin
The wood cracks and the monster is awake
Hurry! Dig a pit for the creature to hide
Burn it before the sunrise
Oh do not let the world encounter this chaos
No one should see the vile mien
of a ferocious blood ******* entity
That thrusts its teeth deep into the delicate skin
and schemes for barbaric damages.
Look!
The naive creature stands with utter dainty
A revolting smirk sleeps on its face
Pale skin and a bloodshot gaze
An evil snicker revealed the fangs
See how the eyes move with hostility
Like a venom injected in the name of brutality
Sharp nails and clenched fists
Searching for a throat to slit.
The air now breathes a vengeful sigh
Like a wild beast craves to die
Dark shadows lurk behind the curtains
Silent whispers yodel about a burden
The creature stone eyed, stares back
I breathe quietly under the horrid impact
There!
It is coming my way
I can feel the intruding fear of a feeble prey in my veins
Finally, as if the monster made its mind
It opened the mouth in a solemn cry
A shrill voice so piercing, it shattered my facade
I fell on the ground like a broken glass
It was no monster or a Dracula that howled
Ah yes, my own reflection scared my soul
Years of self hate and agony prevailed
And I have been ******* on my veins in despair
My corrupt heart no longer beats
Darkness dwells in its core; so deep
Now watch the results of constant infight
I am nothing more than a mere parasite
A ray of sun touching me toes,
The toxic  memories fading with the tick tock
Once again, I repair my coffin
And slither into a sound slumber on the symphony
Of a robin.
There's a monster inside all of us and unconsciously some of us allow it to feed on our most sensitive emotions. Yes. It is painful.
Afia Jun 2018
I feel ugly.
Like,
the dark spots on a full moon.
The burning skin under the crisp sun.
The harsh stain of vibrant colours on a canvas.
The violent shade of the monsoon cloud.
The rustic smell of an old key.
The sad wrinkles on a tree trunk.
The tired stretch marks on a shabby body.
Or,
the birth of a life.
I feel less. I feel pigmented.
I feel lost. I feel strange.
This is my beauty to taste.
To embrace.
For years. people have been reminding some of us that how unattractive they look. Beauty can never be defined according to ''their'' perspectives.
Afia Jul 2018
A long time ago I walked this path
Its cracks and holes narrate grey tales.
A long time ago I watched this road
While the sun gently poured its gold.
A long time ago I saw the end
When the colours of the winds were not dead.
To my institution,Government College University Lahore, where I made remarkable memories.
Afia Aug 2018
Last night, I wrote poems on my skin and hid the scars.
Carved some stories and spilled ink.
A beautiful mess killed a life within.
Don't give me up that fast.
I may not be worthy of holding your hand.
Rose water and holy smiles,
I'll learn to keep your world bright.
Don't throw the flowers away.
I like to keep them for my sake.
No, I understand.
Little people sleep in sand.
Why are the voices loud?
Can I say what my heart desires?
I can't breathe, will you bury me in white?
Oh! You can't hear me.
The clock ticked, you have a meeting.
Adieu my friend, I shall be leaving.
We are all equally responsible for a suicide someone else commits. For once, just listen.
Afia Jun 2018
It was green before this torment
It was jovial before this storm
There was no stinging tear
But, the clamouring of fleer
My heart throbs with every breath
For I have swallowed a venomous drink of fear
My eyes are searching for a life
An intimate being they do seek
The winds whispered in my ear
‘All those are gone and some disappeared.’
The foul odor around is burning my soul
And the bawling of dismay is all I can hear
For the night is restless and it beseeches aid
I, here, stand still with my back on a spear
The world will recite my story, it will celebrate this day
And will sleep somehow after the vigils on the graves
Yet how I shall find the one who gave me birth?
And will he pay for my dreams with a fatherly stare?
Solace is not what I require
Words will no longer prevail
For I do not feel anything
It is now an eternal pain
The world has become a chaos pit.
Afia Sep 2018
I'm sorry
If I woke you up last night
My pen told me secrets in whispers
And I carved scars and tales
Of silly incantations and
old fallen trees
Of silver days in summer breeze
and tattered amber sundresses
Of apple bites and ripe grapes
near the broken glass on the carpet; they decayed
Ashes danced on my lips; sculpting poems on my skin
and flicking cigarette on my wounds
Smudged mascara and dulcet memories
Leather fabricated journals of vintage times
hiding crisp carcasses of yellow daises
Euphonious chortles and
early morning smiles
Forgotten tea leaves in the teapot
and ginger bread turning cold
Sun rays, like gold dust, sparkling in the air
Through the tall trees of a forest
hanging on the clouds in despair
First day of Spring, magical it is
like a caterpillar's fate
Silky cocoon, shiny chrysalis,
emerging out as a butterfly
Leaving as old and embracing the new
Igniting the sky over my purple roof
Afia Jun 2018
I know it seems insane
When you think of all those who betrayed
It’s like a sip of hot tar
With a pinch of toxic air
That scratches at the back of your throat
And pulls out the molten lungs in folds
No memory so bitter can be casually erased
Only time heals the bruised in pain
People who stab you in the back will try to live on your pain.  Do not let them. Time will bring the better of you at the table.
Afia Dec 2019
Do not die tonight
The heart that has become hollow
Is a sacred tomb you once built
Out of broken trinkets and feathers
Inside
A wild little girl sleeps
Holding a dream catcher close to her *****
For eternity
Rain that once pattered against your window
On nights to keep chaos at bay
Now watches over you
Silently
The neighbor’s dog howls at the
Psychic Catastrophe
As the moon dissolves into the ocean waves
Be gentle with your pain Child
She says
Know that yanking out a dozen hair strands
Will not erase ‘self-hate’
Do not stare into a mirror tonight
What you see is not You anymore
Vacant eyes and creaking bones
Your body is now home to another host
A piercing wail echoes through the night sky
And splits the city air
The broken glass on the bathroom floor
Glints like a Sailor’s forgotten treasure
Swimming over the vast red sea, kindling with its own symphony
–Afia Qamar
Afia Jul 2018
There is no substitute for healing,
than to bloom in your own fire.
To climb wound by wound
on your bruised fervour,
is far better than growing wild.
Do not despise your reflection,
the shadows can lie.
You turn stones into petals,
this art is sublime.
Years of infight results into an exalted rank we are too blind to notice at times. Give yourself a chance.
Afia Jun 2018
Like ashes
they soar into the air.
My hair, long, like a hazel waterfall
carving the soul’s soil for a placid path.
Every wave folds a story,
every strand imparts in riddles.
Time.
Years gone by.
No phoenix’s tear can bring to life;
what died in me a million times.
Embrace your body. For it always stays with us through thick and thin. Hence, knows us far better.
Afia May 2019
The melodies I hear are filling the void
And the golden stardust is slipping in my veins
What secrets you hold, Oh mighty being?
Your valleys are green and the air serene
So i listen more
The cluster of trees is whispering to me
Fly, fly you jester
Your hour is near now wake up
Go no more into the wheels and machines
Let alone the heels and soar through the winds.
Afia Jul 2018
A shaft from the golden sun,
reclined peacefully in my lap.
The amber gleam reflected back,
and gently baked the solemn land.
An ardent whisper furnished the woods
with a viridescent scent that woke up the woods.
Silver songs of sleek streams,
chased the lullabies away;
gently.
Ancient tress cuddled the wind,
their leaves clapped in sheer bliss
The broken winged white eyed bulbul,
warbled hymns to lift the curse.
Scarlet tainted vintage letters resting in the rustic mailbox,
await your tender touch; while they chant for a past long gone.
But lily livered clouds,
they have turned your courage into a yellow illusion.
So now defy the toxic words and the errors you made,
A different person inside your skin, long ago, burned our hearts on the hateful flames.
I look for answers in Nature.
Afia Nov 2018
I am dying.
With the crimson gentle stroll,
of the parched winter glow.

I am dying.
Of the thorns dwelling within the whisper's den,
and the menacing spikes of my broken pen.

I am dying.
From the agonizing tempest that pervaded my soul,
it is no more a riddle; an Apocalypse is born.
Afia Jun 2018
Give me a cello
I shall play you a melody
And my fingers will compose stories
Over the rustic strings

Give me a knife
I shall peel my skin
And show you the wound
That was born with your words

Give me a needle
I shall make you a quilt
And stich a pattern of wasted time
And infinite bundle of warmth

Give me a shovel
I shall dig my grave
And bury my soul
So you would not have to
Carry my sorrows anymore
I hold nothing sacred now.
Afia Aug 2018
Little famished people left after they were born
A tiny old place can no longer be their home
Little acquisitive people travel to the cities
Soon their greed seize their courtesy
Little naive people disguise so well.
“Let us add a white shade to our scarlet blood.”
Little grey people complain about the world
A tear or two should ‘justify' their ‘love'
Little learned people fight for human rights
Dazzling crystal goblets clink on every ‘I'
Little erudite people cherish old tombs
But they forget the life spent in the womb
Little fading people live no life
Hence they regret as they retire
Little us. Little world. Little life.
Afia Feb 2018
Dead feelings
Rotten sighs
Gazing at
My firefly
A broken dream
A shattered life
Afia Feb 2018
Solid hearts
dying
every night.
Torn faces
*******
the sunshine.
Grey eyes
staring
in the twilight.
Barren land
giving
birth to the unborn
child.
#pain   #depression   #chaos   #seclusion
#solitude   #sadness  #emptiness
Afia Jul 2018
It explains
All childhood gains
The damp soil and people all plain
How easy was it to obtain
Fritter, butter, tea , paratha on a plate
And the gentle smile gone not in vain
Of weak limbs and sight living their tales
A sudden flash and all is blind
A slight whisper and all is behind.
For the love of rain.
Afia Jul 2018
Green.
That peeks through my window
and craddles me to sleep.
Green.
That caresses my hair and whispers sweet.

Green.
That sips the vibrant rain
and drinks the dew deep.

Green.
I seek your blood that accepts no creed.
Green, I live.
Green, I bleed.
Green, I find no color so keen.
Afia Jun 2018
You say
that you're hurt.
That you seek
a fair choice.
Dear one,
even a flower wilts.
When the sun undresses it,
desperate for the maniacal love making;
and the bees **** the honey.
The petals turn dry
when the nectar leaves.
And so it rests on the ground.
Open and wasted;
thus enjoys an eternal sleep.
Afia Jun 2018
O ! Dazzling rays of the sun
Embrace the air
And say the words
I have seen the light
hovering above lilies
And my reflection on water
Shivering and quivering
The path I stand on provides me the shelter
To hold no past , to await no future
I rise up again
With every morning I speak
I come in peace and prosperity
A new dawn. A new beginning.
Afia Nov 2018
I sprinkled sunflower petals in the warm water,
to make it gold.
Then dipped my body quietly in the bathtub,
to wash my tainted soul.  
The morning light peeked through the lemon coloured glass,
while the fading fate dissolved in the pearly waves of my lash.
My lifted hand reached for the sunlight,
the feeble fingers swayed like dandelions.
A swollen gaze perched on the broken mirror,
a burning sensation impregnated my chafed lips; turning them bitter.
The beauty they preach about is not divine,
nothing in this world stays sublime.
The saffron tinted ancient walls,
kissed the amber tiled floor
Everything fire; everything gold,
yet no power can assuage the murkiness of my soul.
My dear Van Gogh how could you think?
that the yellow, if you eat, will lift your spirits?
Van Gogh's work has always inspired me and his health issues are relatable to an extreme end for me. Most of the time I feel like he is the muse while I create my work.
Afia Jul 2018
Summer is here
Come let's watch the sky
Colors are near
In the orchard we walked by.

Summer is here
And so are they all
Let's smile together
Before it's fall.
A simple summer thought passed my mind.

— The End —