Monthly Archives: July 2014

I am a war child.

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war

In the morning, it is dark. The nights are even darker. The only lights are gunshots and rocket fires. Smoke filled lanes. Abandoned houses and streets. We are crammed in little rooms. Crammed in underground bunkers. I have seen more death than life. I am just a child. I think my heart dies a little inside, every time, I hear that someone I love is no longer alive. I am a war child. Living in square rooms. Living in square lives. This is what my life reduced to. This is of what remains, of what I thought would be a wonderful life turned out to be death and fight. The weekdays pass and the weekends go. I hear screams, shouts, and nothing more. I am a war child. Trapped in a square life. I have no escape. I cannot go back in time. I cannot rewind my life. What I have seen in my life cannot be unseen. The sounds of drones cannot be unheard.
Knock! Knock! They come on our doors. When we refuse to open it, they bash it and break it through. With big guns and badges on suits, dressed up in grey helmets and brown boots. They kick us around like animals. Parade around the room. Call us names. Curses and abuse. Grab my sisters by the hair. Take them to another room. All I hear are screams and shouts. All I see is deadly grins when they come out. My mother keeps weeping. My father went numb. Trapped in a square life. Trapped with no way out. My brother went to war. He said he would fight for the homeland. I heard the news on Sunday. I realized the last good hug we had was months ago. He was hit in the chest twice in two rounds. I realized I would not feel the warmth of his body against mine, anymore. My friends are all gone. I have no idea where they went. I miss playing with them. The grown up games are no fun to play. I tasted fear. I clenched onto hope. However, a pain throbs in my heart when I think of going outside and seeing the playground in such a mess. I tasted blood in my mouth, again. We are out of food. The electricity is gone. The sounds of sirens and cannons are all around. I am a war child. I am as I am. Nothing to see here. Nothing to read here. Just another story of a war child. Just another tale of large-scale massacre.

I am a street child

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I am a street child. The shallow lanes my home. When I was five, my family sold me to a man who claimed to make me a hero. I left my mothers finger and clutched onto the mans, who claimed he could make me earn more and so my family would not have to worry,anymore. He took me into a dark place. Mysterious and gloomy it was. The walls reeked with decay of metal and the floor screamed with pain of its own. He placed me on the floor and soon I was unconscious, but I woke up to knew why the floor screamed of pain for so long. I awoke with broken limbs, I perfectly had them two hours ago. He claimed to make me a hero, made me a crippled zero. It was agony and pain, the sort you would not know. Have you ever just woken up to find, that you will not be walking without sticks anymore? He laughed as I sobbed and saw my deformed limbs-useless on the cold floor. A stabbing pain in my heart- I knew my dreams were broken, alas! An inflicted wound on my existence- I knew I was nothing more than a cripple. "Get used to it", he said And after months of crying I did. My entity died, my hope shattered and I came to the conclusion that I was nothing more than a beggar. I replaced it all with nothingness. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I am a street child. I knock on your fancy car doors. I beg for money. I beg for pity. I beg for change and nothing more. Scorching sun, rainy days, summer, winter and spring are all the same. The shallow lanes are my home. They are my solace. I have friends now, and we are all the same. Playing with our broken limbs and walking sticks. Smoking a cigarette a day. The morning comes and we get ready for work. The night comes and we count the pennies we earned. I am a street child and nothing more. "Sahab jee, kuch paisay he de do."

I am a street child. The shallow lanes my home. When I was five, my family sold me to a man who claimed to make me a hero. I left my mothers finger and clutched onto the mans, who claimed he could make me earn more and so my family would not have to worry,anymore. He took me into a dark place. Mysterious and gloomy it was. The walls reeked with decay of metal and the floor screamed with pain of its own. He placed me on the floor and soon I was unconscious, but I woke up to knew why the floor screamed of pain for so long. I awoke with broken limbs, I perfectly had them two hours ago. He claimed to make me a hero, made me a crippled zero. It was agony and pain, the sort you would not know. Have you ever just woken up to find, that you will not be walking without sticks anymore? He laughed as I sobbed and saw my deformed limbs-useless on the cold floor. A stabbing pain in my heart- I knew my dreams were broken, alas! An inflicted wound on my existence- I knew I was nothing more than a cripple.
“Get used to it”, he said
And after months of crying I did. My entity died, my hope shattered and I came to the conclusion that I was nothing more than a beggar. I replaced it all with nothingness. Nothing mattered to me anymore.
I am a street child. I knock on your fancy car doors. I beg for money. I beg for pity. I beg for change and nothing more. Scorching sun, rainy days, summer, winter and spring are all the same. The shallow lanes are my home. They are my solace. I have friends now, and we are all the same. Playing with our broken limbs and walking sticks. Smoking a cigarette a day. The morning comes and we get ready for work. The night comes and we count the pennies we earned. I am a street child and nothing more.
“Sahab jee, kuch paisay he de do.”

schizophrenia and I

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-And they speak again forcing me to listen to them.

Didn’t we tell you? This was bound to happen!
– My conscious is slowly fading away. I need to search for the cure or it is bound to repeat itself again. Dash for the nearest closet to pop a pill and gulp down water from the sink. This cannot be happening again, NO! The doctor said I was getting better.

You already set fire to the gifts he gave you but how will you set fire to his memories?

-OH! STOP!! Please. I could hear them laugh. Laughing out. Mocking my credence. Maybe fresh air would do me good? Hurrying upstairs to the terrace. Tip toe-not trying to wake the whole house up.

Fresh air is as good to you as the chamber you confine yourself in, all day! Since the past few months. All digital aren’t you,honey?

-What do you want from me?

Your misery, child. Your heart will die a slow excruciating death and you will shed hope of getting better. You will be dead and still be alive.

-Let me live. Let me be normal. Let me fit in.

HAHA! You can set fire to physical things. Drown them. Bury them. Trash them away. But you cannot get rid of us. You cannot set fire to your spirit. You cannot drown your sorrow. You cannot trash away your existence. We live here. This is our home.

-I am taking my medicine. I will get better. I will survive. You will see. I will find peace.

Medicines just make you numb to the world and more active to us. There is no getting better. You would not survive. Peace? That will only be a five letter word to you. Go on! Inject and numb your veins.

-Please, what did I ever do to you? Why do you haunt me when it is dark?

Because, you dared to dream! You dared to outshine. You dared to take more than what was your piece. And now suffering is your only release. Salvation. You are nothing but a beautiful face structured on lies.

– I am nothing more than a pretty face, big eyed, pillowed lip girl structured on lies *keeps repeating*
*Fadeout*

#2 Letting Go!

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I carve out sentiments and adjure metaphor from our loving memories of dawn hysteria. As words I put them forth, through your crystal body fragile and delicate; bruised for me to soothe, but the reflective lights of your aura and ambience blind my sight and burn my insides. Love becomes and illusion and so does chaos. The voices in my head- start. They grow high in tone and tense when I am alone and at times in a millions crowd they become whispers. Like the touch of colorful plumage feathers and silk sheets, or at times deafening drum blows piercing through my sight, they numb me. But your colors, your aura and our every moment, morphs-YOU, posing as the naked king of my thoughts. I fall back again into the sands of time, yet again deeper with aqua pura falling from the ember and cinder shade skies. I on my knees, trapped with a leash and a burnt back- your memories, your love and the winds of life have gashed my skin. Your indoctrination and laws that tricked me into it all. My flaws openly subjected to be disclosed will no longer corrupt my ways. My inner animal, my inner gypsy is heaving. My spirit not grieving. There comes my wakeful greeting. I feel the shivers, in my bones. They travel through my vertebrae. Fracturing and cracking- I exit the state. My desire to levitate astray, is now there alas! To be free, liberated-to be beyond!

China Doll

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I used to play house with my china dolls when I was eight
The dawn, the day, the night
All happened in a single day

I wanted to be an artist when I was ten
Colored out of the lines at times
But I was a Picasso of my own back then

I wanted to be a dancer when I as twelve
Swing on the staircase and tip toe on the wooden floor
I pretended to be a ballerina all delicate but bold

I wanted to be a doctor when I was fourteen
Help the poor with all my might
Even though the sight of blood would make me cringe

I wanted to be a pilot when I was sixteen
Fly fighter planes and serve my country
Gain a medal or two for my bravery

I wanted to fall in love when I was eighteen
Find my prince and Disney fairytale
And live my happily ever after or something like that

I’m nineteen now
I’m one of the china dolls that I used to play house with
I’m an artist but I lost all my colors
I dance in the moonlight drunk to my heart content
I’m a doctor of my own now chugging in pills to kill the voices in my head
I became a pilot and would go sky high with a few hits of heroin in my veins
I fell in love and out of it like a gambler that wore her heart on her sleeve
For all I want now is to survive
With my demons, myself and I
To go to bed without taking a pill at night.

I sold my love

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I sold my love for a few grams of hash
A few hits of heroin and a sniff of coke
The compass that navigated my steps towards you
Is now broken with its needle only pointing in my veins
I started lurking in the shadows
Hiding behind the façade
Shunning out everyone that told me to stop
Told me to reconsider my path
I kissed your wilting petals a final goodbye
As I crushed you between the sole of my feet
Walked away like you never existed in my life
The voices in my head are back again
And this time they promise to stay
I scribble on the walls and the floors
Of how I sold my love for a few grams of hash
A few hits of heroin and a sniff of coke
Of how I broke the compass that navigated me towards life
And how much I miss you in the morning when the clock strikes five