"masked" poems
Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no--
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.
That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter--
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.
And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.
Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.
39.3k
The satin gown of hope a myth
The heroes fallen
to the abyss
The bloom of death, no longer risen
Our souls trapped in endless prison
Existence the master of all
masked curses
A song of tragedy with endless
verses
So if dying breath comes anyway
What's it matter
How soon the day
All suns set
Some plan no dawn
They care not for those who mourn
I wish myself
The blood to stop
To soon not hold
A single drop
So I promise you my heart for free
If you swear
You'll rip it out of me
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
A sudden jealousy a envious eye.
A voiceless pattern within this head of mine.
A vigilant figure, watchful eye.
A masked emotion on a blazing red sky.
I don't dare voice my thoughts because they are of scorn, my inside twist scary storms.
A feeling, a urge to should, a voice so broken to see her stripped but to me she does not belong so i numb this pain till i see it rain away.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a london fog
lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink
guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******
cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of a phantom abyss
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
Can you feel it
Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit
Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift
Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift
Soft Moonlight Dust
Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust
Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ******
Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust
So gentle, as a touch to the skin
An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins
Awareness of self stirring into the constellation
Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination
Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste
Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait
Overheated friction surrendering without debates
Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate
The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn
Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn
A Cheshire moonrise
Always a sacred communion given in surprise
Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes
Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full
Paired upon, as lace meets wool
Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool
Stars In Exile
Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile
Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine
Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine
Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky
A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye
Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall
Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all
The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke
Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke
Relentless bodies bathing under the moon
Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes
Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper
Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper
Heat consumes the interior of the temple
Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble
Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon
Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon
Temperatures rising not a moment too soon
June slamming into summer’s heat
A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast
The galaxy and its spicy passion
A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
This world was built on a foundation of perfection
No weight lies upon our shoulders
Each person needs no other to survive
No others need to be added to this perfect world
For perfection is perfect
But the storm rips us apart
I huddle by myself
Covering my eyes to make it not true
The pieces of the world cut through the air
Not just the air, but my flesh, my soul
The others cower alone as well
We all hide our sobs
And muffle our cries of pain
For Perfection is not weak
The storm moves on
And the world is now dull gray
The wounded tend to themselves
And the children cry alone
We do not reach for the pieces we have lost
But instead begin to build a new world
For Perfection knows no past
This new world is perfect
Each person takes care of only their needs
Nothing can be added or lost to make it less perfect
But the perfection weighs upon my shoulders
And slices into me like glass
It hurts so much I cry
But no help is given when I reach out
For Perfection does not care
Doors close
Windows slam shut
The people scatter as they hear my rage
They do not want to talk of or hear about the terrible past
The future is what matters, they say
For Perfection does not know pain
But I find another who shows pain
The other and I, we search for the pieces of the lost world
The other and I, we lay them out
But the pieces do not fit
What has been ripped apart cannot be fixed
For Perfection is not in the pieces
The other and I, we show the pieces
To the citizens of the new perfect world
The past stands before them
Some faces are masked
Some are in tears
Worse are the cries of anguish
But each person does not acknowledge any other's pain
For Perfection is self-sufficient
The other and I now realize what Perfection is
It is covering what's inside
And pretending emotions do not exist
It is showing your faults to no one
And not caring for another
It is thinking only of the pain you are in
And being swallowed by your own misery
So much that you forget that you can heal another's pain
Just as they can heal your own
For Perfection is a mask for those too selfish and weak to show the pain inside
For Perfection is forgetting there are others like yourself
For Perfections is not knowing
That Perfection is not real
The other and I, we stop putting together the pieces
The other and I, we leave that perfect world
The other and I, we begin to make a new world
Full of imperfections
The other and I, we do not hide our pain
We show it to our imperfect world
And because it is shown
It drifts towards the heavens
And because the other and I, we show our imperfection
The imperfections fill our world
And the other and I, we begin to mend
For imperfection is healing
They all begin to see
The happiness that is brought to the other and I
The other and I, we teach them
How to show their pain
To display their imperfections
To heal the wounds inside
For imperfection makes our world beautiful
When new pain is found
We display it to the world
We help others as they help us
We are dependent on each other
Losing a person fills us with sorrow
A person being added fills us with joy
For imperfection connects us all
To say our world is perfect is far from true
Perfection and imperfection should never be compared
Pain is in our world, but there is also happiness
Loss, but also gain
Every pain we feel is matched with joy for something else
For imperfection means to have emotion
For imperfection means to live
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
Hell's demons are everywhere
If I could only convince you to see
Drinking gin and tonic with style
Sipping haughtily on lemon and tea
Their distorted evil frightening faces
Are masked from human sight
As they pass you with indifference
Grinning and nodding
Moving left to right
However
Without warning
As their vicious appetites call
Growing hungry for souls
In the silence of the night
They gobble up foolish sinners they encounter
That disappear forever from sight
So the next time you have the desire to dine in the evening
Take a moment or a second or two
Remember faces are not all they seem
A demon may be sipping a martini,
While smiling and sitting right next to you
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
The waves rush in and out again,
Legs useless, hands limp, arms bent,
The masked ones have departed,
the cutting now has quit.
Silent, though I wish to scream,
Brain it is pounding,
in a preamble to explode.
White light and incessant buzzing,
relentless pain is throbbing,
conveying its full extent.
Hands and kind face suddenly appear,
Holding blessed instrument,
Approaching now quite near,
Into my drip it does commence,
I descend into the depths,
white to grey to black again.
Down I go in welcome spin,
into the embrace of oblivion,
Ah, Morpheus my dear,
dear sweet friend.
Wake me not until I'm dead,
Or 'til the tide does ebb again.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic: I
feel like plastic,
aiming for an eighteen-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away.
I feel like plastic,
having to choose
between eating and breathing with not enough space for two tubes.
I feel like plastic,
a thirty-nine inch bust and three times the forehead.
I feel like plastic,
a size nine squeezed to a three, spending
three to nine avoiding mealtime because my weight loss book says
'Don't eat.'
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic, but...
I'm not plastic.
I've sat here listening while you complain about society but I don't think you realize that
society is made by you.
You complain about masks but you're masked by your poetry and
trust me,
it's trendy:
Psychiatry.
A bottle of capsules captures your soul and your dreams,
fading
reality.
I cannot be defined because a definition leaves no room for change and I
am a flame,
ready to burn the cardboard box of priority you put over me.
All the cool kids are lesbians and thespians on about repressions
and I care,
I do,
I mean... I'm standing here among you.
But words are just air.
You can stand on this stage and tell me I'm beautiful, but
I am more than my face so
disregard my mild distaste for your
inspirational speech.
Now, this...
This isn't a call for help.
This is a call to arms.
This
is a battle cry because
I
am sick of waiting for a future that should've happened yesterday.
So use this air to live the words you say and
rally.
Do not soothe, because we've already been cocooned by soothed reality in
Shawnee,
Johnson County.
I'm a real girl,
in a real world.
Life's fantastic, and I
refuse to be plastic,
aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number.
I refuse to be plastic,
a neck moulded perfectly for both eating and breathing so I don't have to choose.
I refuse to be plastic,
a bust that you don't need to be sizing
when I've got eyes
a green not of romanticized meadows but of drunken
puke.
I refuse to be plastic,
a size nine foot in a size nine shoe,
spending three to nine
enjoying my meal times,
because my weight loss book is
chucked down the chute.
I'm a living girl
in a beautiful world.
Life's fantastic,
because I'm not plastic.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Amidst the excitement
over disabling drinks and drugs
and hasty hook ups
there is a silence that exists
because nobody talks.
Nobody talks.
Demons fill the air
intoxicating your emotions
and you're alone.
Parties shouldn't be lonely,
should they?
There are masked people
segregated
except for one girl
whose face shines
the mask blocking her light
like an eclipse.
And she's not here.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Pele, goddess of fire
The ocean has masked your flame
Your spirit drowned and chained
A name to which you do not recall
As though your glass
Is full of life's gall
I give you this name
Pele, of flame
That maybe your spirit be free
Escape this empty shallow sea
And use your feet to fly
Dance like the ever changing sky
Like mountain flames on distant isles
Like sparks that travel miles
Dance like the fires that burn the air
Make every step a scorching flare
That is the story I wish to tell
The story of hells angel
But here you lay on the oceans floor
You do not dance a dance no more
But once we escape this ocean of blue
I'll tell all that I meet
The story of you
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
I have been training,
My whole entire life,
to get ready for the fight,
holding steady in my hand, a knife.
_____
I just want to be a hero
a masked crusader in the night,
saving the planet, one person at a time,
but for now, I'll just write
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
My younger brother and I heard strange noises coming from the beach again…
We looked up at the ceiling and then the window…
As the voices from outside, in a lively allegro…
Grew softer and louder in repeating crescendos…
We skittered out the door and stared in fascination…
For what we saw must have been our imagination…
The door closed with a creak as our feet hit the grass…
It was at that moment we got a look at the mass…
Of stubby foot, hunchback creatures from which the sounds had amassed…
There was about six of them chanting like a choir…
They danced and paraded around our burnt out fire…
As we looked on, we saw our fire raise…
It got brighter as they lifted their hands in waves…
As light betook the blue beach night…
A crowd of colorfully masked gremlins caught us in their sights!
Their feet slowed to a stop and they quieted down…
They stood still as the fire flickered off their weird wooden frowns…
One reached out his hand in a come-here motion…
They seemed to stand and wait with an encouraging notion…
As the fire crackled and the waves tumbled onto the beach…
All I can remember, is for the rest of that summer…
My younger brother and I served as the drummers…
For that quirky marching band of lake sprites…
With which our burnt out fire we’d reignite…
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
I know the smell of everyone I've ever loved
wanted
hated
lusted
snorted like a dying drug addicts last meal
My first smelt of deities
a mens deodorant for a boy
who didn't know what he
wanted, but he knew what
he should.
He was sharp, uncertain, his
natural scent masked by an
advert.
My second smelt of fields
the earth was his roll-on
and though he'd mask it in
the oils of men, I knew he
smell of a hearth, hormones
and her heart on his sleeve.
His scent was primal and I
bathed in it's rawness.
My third smells of fire
whatever he's burning,
midnight oil, stress,
nicotine, I can sense it
soaked into his skin with
sweat. Encased in fire,
I suffocate on air nowadays.
He reeks of home, lust, longing
and hope.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Resuscitate our dead memories only just to die again;
Waking from a deep slumber, Staring out the window pane;
Counting hours, how long can I endure the need to restrain?;
Nothing have changed I should just get back to sleep again.
The sun rises slowly as it burns my pale tainted skin;
It just felt so good just to feel pain! For so long I've been so keen;
I grew weak in my dreams when I'm asleep, the thoughts of you makes me sick!
It's not that you vexes me, It's because of what I did to you that worries me;
Never before I have felt so sensitive within this lifeless body...
Lived only by drinking blood! To be confined in this coffin just to feel lonely!
And then you came... The one I thought who restrained the beast in me;
The one who gave warmth not burning me, calmed my soulless fury.
But we must all know that the nature has its way of breaking;
Something that is beautiful, Something profound! A new beginning...
And so it came to that point where I fed on her! left her dying!
Perhaps it was all meant to be for a while just to forget the craving...
I'm a killer, a monster! An abomination to this world!
But I can't take my life...Believe me I tried!
I bathed under the sun turn to ashes and died!
Only to know that when darkness falls I'll be revived...
I must make a choice... It fancies me just having this thoughts right now;
What could I possibly do?If the beast within is the one who contains me and how?
It seems like a personal attraction just to add some satisfaction as I reach for the ****
A little drama, show some masked humanity, make them live a little just to quench the thrill!
I have glared, I have grinned, I have laughed and I have seduced...
As I get closer for my teeth to sink in, let loose, let the hunger reduced;
But after the feed do I feel remorse? For hours I thought I did...
It's been like that through all the years... Feels redundant indeed.
So how far will this story goes? For centuries I have pondered in circles.
I have been there the evolution, the changes, the life as it cycles.
And again...Here and now as I stand where once I become capable staring at the sun;
I will forget the unforgettable, sail away! Far away from this land...
Remember my story as it will never end;
I'm finding a way now to break free from this curse;
To be one with my prey walk free no more blood to quench thirst;
So long and goodbye from me Dracula...
Serenity is what I seek...A redemption of what they speak.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
To future conquering civilizations
in galaxies far far away . . .
don't worry about polluting the air,
our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs
into the clouds for centuries,
mixing rain drops with the
black grime of industrialization,
transforming our children's tears
into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt.
We've also drained the bayous and swamps
and between you and me
don't even bother landing in Africa
there isn't suitable drinking water
for miles, you see.
You can thank years of colonization for that.
In fact, you may not want to land
on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays
in LA either-
on those days the air quality index
is 175 and far too unhealthy for any
biological organism to survive.
But at least you won't die of malnutrition
you've got decisions:
McDonald's or Burger King
choose
cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops.
Send them in immediately,
there won't be much resistance
we've got these things call lazy boys
and daytime t.v which have
enslaved the population and decreased
the distance
between fully functioning
human beings and mindless apes.
Don't worry about bringing weapons
we've got those too
we've perfected the art of blowing each other away
there's not much for you to do.
we destroy cities with fire from the sky
and our mushroom clouds rise
at least ten miles high.
And god can't see, there's too much smoke
in his eyes
and our radiated children die
with radiated sighs.
While we are on the topic
don't worry about us spreading
propaganda
we've lost the ability to communicate.
We've learned
books turn a peculiar dark yellow
when lighted and burned.
And forget erasing history,
we've done that too.
Our subjugation of native peoples
is masked as 'patriotism'
under the red, white, and blue.
But don't get me wrong,
I tell you all
of this not to dissuade,
please come and attack,
please come and invade.
Here, I'll even turn
on the lights . . .
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
I see you standing there
I can see the pain masked by a smile
I can see how broken you are
I want to help you
I want to make you feel wanted
I want to make you happy
But I don't know how
I don't know what to do
I don't know how to act
I wish I could help you
I want to help you
I can help you
I've been through this
I know how this works
I know how I got through this
Maybe I can heal those scars on your wrist
I just want you to open up
I need you to open up
I know that it is hard
I understand what this means
I might not understand completely
I can try to understand
I will understand
I just need you to trust me
Please
Let Me
Help You
Don't
Shut Me
Out
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
You are hell-bent,
nostalgic of the stitch in my stomach
and the simple repetition of my words.
A different season,
the same fears,
unknown intentions.
A lovers kiss feels like your drunken mistakes.
Fight-or-flight
perfectly masked underneath sarcasm and closed eyes.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
You were so hot I spun twice to see, call me a fan
Your regal youth made my blood boil, call you peter pan
*You were like a boomerang I wanted to throw away but you kept* coming back to me,
*And maybe I've always been scared of hurdles and you were my biggest one, 'cause I just can't* get over you, you see
I thought you were like a paradox:
Cool as ice and hot as molten rock
You were like a magician with words, drove me so crazy I was pulling out my hare,
You steal my heart like a pirate captain when I sea you standing there,
But you didn’t have any morals, I deserve to call you whoreible
Yet you still think you're cute. you know? leaving my house the way you came would be adooreble
I discovered your texts to her on my birthday, the cake was ruined with my tiers
You caught my Eye with your animal magnetism, but you’ve been a cheetah for years
What? you think this is a game? No, you don't have a clue!
You had a monopoly on my life and now your name is taboo
You said you needed some time and space to yourself you were the only one in the galaxy I Wanted,
I guess life never turns out how you planet and since you left I've been feeling haunted,
Why did I believe you were a great catch? Just because you **master *****
You made me think we could smash; every second felt like a brawl
Loving you was no gouda, though I swiss you now that you’re gone, it isn’t easy,
I said goodbye, It’s not you it’s brie, sorry that was cheesy.
You gave my life flavor but you were just a masked spyce that made my life sour like limes
I know I need to chili but you have really bad taste and we’re out of thyme
I need a holiday *from your lies, my patience is running short
I’m better off with you gone, and leaving you is my last* resort
I guess we didn't have that spark no need to be astunished,
all I know now is: IT IS TIME YOU WERE PUNISHED.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
Listen to the machines meditate.
Touch their buttons and turn them on.
Plug into the charged thoughts
of your radio
statically in between stations,
or the electric fan
buzzing its soothing breeze,
humming vibrantly against your brain
like a relaxing massage from an absent soul.
Movements of the world outside masked
in a mechanical bubble of unnatural dreams.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
One winter night
The wind blows with its might
She walks alone through the wood
Her name’s Little Red Riding Hood
The willow trees along the forest trail
Sway their empty branches and wail
And afar, the white bright moon
Tries hard to shine like it were noon
“I will eat you”, the whisper sounded near
Sending her into a state of fear
Holding her basket she spun around
Only to see darkness from the sky to the ground
Awake and alert, she waited a moment
Her fast beating heart giving her a torment
To go on or to go back, she couldn’t decide
How she wished her mother by her side
The wolf couldn’t wait to claim his food
So he started to plan how he could
For he knew which way she’s heading to
It’s probably the route earlier too
The wolf figured out a plan
He wouldn’t share this to his clan
So he ran and ran and wait for her at her granny’s place
But here comes the twist in this tale
For Riding Hood is a modern child
And the wolf is still traditional and wild
Riding Hood reached for her cellphone, and placed a call
Calling her granny in no time at all
“Im scared, Im going home”, she cried
It was a failed effort, but she tried
A wise decision, granny couldn't agree more
Soon, there was a knock on the door
“Whos that?”, Granny asked
“Red Riding Hood”, his voice was masked
What an impostor
Posing as her granddaughter
Granny picked up her whistle and blew it hard
Down came running the guard
Before he knew it, he was put in a sack
What a pity, the wolf became a catch
In a mere mobile phone
He found his match.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
they
say when
it rains, it pours
yet these streets look
pretty dry to me. is this a
mask? or is this really me i see?
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
Fear is like a plague.
There’s no getting away from that aching
feeling of uncertainty that follows you
everywhere you go, finding you
even in the smallest of corners.
Fear is like a fire that you can’t tame
because trying to put it out only makes it grow
stronger and although people tell you
to face your fears, once it sets in,
spreading faster, is there really a way
to get away from something once it has
complete control over you?
You grow up with the pain of fear.
Fear that nothing good will ever come
because that’s just how the world works.
The pain, the depression, and the rejection
can easily be masked with a small smile
that says you’re fine.
It gets to the point where that small smile
becomes the biggest lie in the world;
a lie to deceive anyone and anything that
it comes in contact with.
Yet, no matter how big the lie may be,
it holds the power to make something
good slowly turn into something bad;
where the lie not only deceives
everyone else but also
ourselves in the end.
Lies about who we’re not become
truths about who we are to become.
The world works in ways where
the truth is a lie and a lie is
the truth if you’re willing to believe it.
They get tangled into such a web where
you no longer know the difference
between the two, only causing misery
in the long run.
It gets so etched into your mind
that you lose who you are to it
and once that happens,
the day has arrived where
you may wake up in the morning,
look in the mirror and no longer recognize
the stranger in front of you.
It’s the day you realize that so much time
has passed that the person you once were
is no longer who you are.
You won’t know the difference between good or bad,
you won’t know who you had been,
or what you had become.
There’s no starting over,
no returning to what use to be;
all you have is that one moment and
you live inside that same moment until
the deception finally kills you over.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
The invisible scar
Of the patriarchy
Hangs over us
Masked by the shadows of tradition
Concealed within
Dazzling bursts of color
Billowing skirts
And spirited dancing
Hot acid flung
Scathing, searing, scalding
Because weak men
Cannot handle rejection
Wed the one you love
And bring shame
Upon the family
Honor killings
Does ******
Bring Dignity?
#JusticeforNirbhaya
#JusticeforAsifa
And now #JusticeforAiman
Our only crime
Is being female
Yet fingers are still pointed
At us
At the length of our dresses
At the makeup on our faces
At the way we smiled
How long
Until we are finally fed up
With a society
That would rather
A corpse
Over a girl?
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC