Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Apr 2020 · 38
a note to my mortician
Alia Izzati Apr 2020
When I die,
be it tonight or many moons come,
let his eyes go red,
if he ever cared,
hold his wrists until they bleed,
tell him, them, if he ever breeds (again),
not a step,
nor even a breath in their chest,
above the ground,
in which I rest.
Mar 2020 · 50
Burnt Trousers
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
I’ve encountered many men,
as life require, I’ve mingled,
I’ve met the pious, the falsely righteous,
an abundance of false promises.

One could say you’re the norm,
poster boy of misogynistic youth,
all men do is lie, feminist anthem,
yet your lies rang truth.

In every smooth defiance, lies you,
in every cushioned words lies truce,
you’re hiding so much, I’m enticed,
enamoured,
like a thick novel with very few words.
Mar 2020 · 56
The Girl Who Cried Wolf
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
The meadows were quiet,
her stuttering breath heavy in the wind,
a loud contrast to the calm,
as she runs from heaven.

She ran and ran until the end of the land,
nowhere to go and yet she still ran,
her destination were vague,
anything, anywhere, as far as it takes.

In her rush, her knees crumbled,
as reality hits her shivering heart.
She could never return,
to her home, her eyes began to burn.

Her sobs shatters the quiet,
screaming to cover the hurt,
as memories of wandering hands ghost through,
she wails into the midnight blue.

The wolf is real,
hiding under a sheep’s fur,
The wolf’s smile are saccharine sweet,
who would believe her trembling tear.
Who would trust the girl who cries,
when the wolf’s the one who raised her?
Mar 2020 · 74
God Bless
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
I was born begging for God’s mercy,
fear and love for all that’s holy,
each day began praising Thee,
each day ends praying for peace.

As I mature, fear grew into hatred,
as men in tunics force me to be wed,
a child barely grown,
victim,
yet drowned by undeserved guilt.

Women in burqas with whips and rattan,
screaming “Sin!!” to my hair, my voice, my hands,
even as my veil falls beneath my ***,
my elbows covered like wings open span.

Twenty years later, I escaped,
one step away and fully awake,
it’s time, I left my childhood behind,
desperately wishing to die human.

So God, God forgive me,
it is never You I despise,
my days are nothing without your sunrise.
But if,
if this is all that life could be,
cowering scared of unknown sins,
take my breath away as I run from this hell,
in search for your hidden gates of Heaven.
I am by no means rejecting my religion, this poem merely portrays how I felt for the community I was raised in whose ideals I rejected as soon as I became old enough to make my own decision.
Mar 2020 · 46
Penny Dreadful
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
Everyone’s in pain,
calls for help from every corner,
drowning my screams,
behind the veil of a loner.

Everyone’s crying,
cracked ribs and ripped heartstrings,
numbing my bruises,
from purple to green.

Everyone’s struggling,
every sigh and sob heard in my head,
yet please, spare me a coin,
a penny for my dreads.
Mar 2020 · 52
A Victor’s Cry
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
You’ve won the battle,
survived the duel,
with your sharpened sword,
and I, devoid of a shield.

Here’s your trophy!
Your hardwon medal.
Beware, it’s heavy,
weighed down by my forgotten dignity.

Why are you pulling at your hair?
Tugging the locks, looking scared?
Why are you crying when you’ve won?
Does my death makes you undone?

Scream louder if you dare,
wail upon my nameless grave.
You killed me, you!

My blood was drawn,
by my own.
Mar 2020 · 42
Hollow
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
“Are you okay?” How should I answer that?
I haven’t cried today, if that’s what you’re wondering.
In fact, I haven’t even felt anything.
Hours in bed stretch longer,
is it breakfast or lunch time? no, it’s dinner.
Days pass by without a hitch,
I don’t even notice the calendars switch.
A new year? That’s funny, how long was I asleep?
Even when awake, I’d lay in bed and weep.
Soft sobs but not wailing, I don’t feel the need,
just emotionless tears trailing down my cheeks.
Is it a memory or a dream?
I don’t know anymore, it seems.
To tame your worry, I’m okay, I’d tell you so,
but inside,
inside,
everything is hollow.
Mar 2020 · 86
Porcelain Plates
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
Smooth and polished,
porcelain plates.
Won’t you allow me,
some mistakes?
For if they break,
crack and tremble,
it is only,
unintentional.
These tiny shards,
might hurt you just a tiny bit,
but it is me who lost my pieces,
tiny voids nothing could fit.

I’ll apologize for imperfections,
I’ll apologize for my lackings,
but will you allow me,
the luxury to be human?
Mar 2020 · 41
Unrehearsed
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
Like a dance on a slippery stage,
Every step is careful and late.
But if falling is in my fate,
no timid toes can escape,
and so let the score run through,
and I’ll waltz right into you.
Mar 2020 · 29
Enigma
Alia Izzati Mar 2020
“You’re an enigma” you’d whisper,
into the night as we cruise the pavement.
My cheeks to your back, I’d sigh.
I’m sure you meant it as a compliment.
One would swoon, any girl would whimper,
You’re a heartthrob, any girl would shiver.
but honey, how I wish I’d do what any girl would,
and yet your alluring words hurt.

I wish you’d know, my subtle signs,
every part of me wishes you’d understand.

I’m no mystery, I leave my heart in the open,
too open perhaps, seeing how the flies hover.
But it was never my heart you’re intrigued by,
it’s the mind I keep under cover.
My mind whom I cherish,
her brilliance often go unnoticed,
and with this mind I am very much aware,
the ***** intentions you bear.

I’m no enigma, but I keep my cards close,
you can’t fool me, but I know not to boast.
even with knowledge I’m right here by your side,
ready to hurt, ready to abide,
anything to escape my reality,
and run into your cruel hide.
Feb 2020 · 37
Rolling Paper
Alia Izzati Feb 2020
A little bit of wood,
a little bit of poison,
a little dash of grass,
a little sprinkle of medicine.
Daintily wrapped,
in a fragile piece of paper.
A potent core within a shell,
as light as a feather.
Strike a match and burn,
her end with mirth and anger,
and watch the stick release,
her final breath with grief.

Goodbye, goodbye, the stick crumbles.
Embrace her, be sincere,
even if you’d find another after,
this is her end.
Her one and only chance.
this marks my first poem here :-)

— The End —