My first time.

Standard
 The first time they told me not to do drugs I was 15 and my parents made a big deal About how addiction was bad About how it ruined lives The irony of it all was My father smoked a lot Addicted to his Bensons and pot My mother took her pills Addicted to valiums and whatnot Addiction was bad they said Good girls! Don’t do drugs Promise us child? You won’t ever touch wine. You won’t ever touch a pill Or consume anything that kills I agreed because I had to What more can a cornered person do? Four years down the road Now, that I know Why addiction was bad That the illusions do not last Love, life, lust, faith, dreams, future All crashes down like a house of cards And you are alone to face reality Addiction does not ruin you. It certainly does not What ruins you is the void in your heart That you fill with rum every night That empty space on the bed Where you crave the presence of them at times It does not always have to be alcohol and powder filled packs Or magic mushrooms or even hash It is that lingering space in your entity That has been broken and dejected by the world It is that question mark left on your heart And the thud of your heartbeat in the silence of the dark.


The first time they told me not to do drugs
I was 15 and my parents made a big deal
About how addiction was bad
About how it ruined lives
The irony of it all was
My father smoked a lot
Addicted to his Bensons and pot
My mother took her pills
Addicted to valiums and whatnot
Addiction was bad they said
Good girls! Don’t do drugs
Promise us child?
You won’t ever touch wine.
You won’t ever touch a pill
Or consume anything that kills
I agreed because I had to
What more can a cornered person do?
Four years down the road
Now, that I know
Why addiction was bad
That the illusions do not last
Love, life, lust, faith, dreams, future
All crashes down like a house of cards
And you are alone to face reality
Addiction does not ruin you.
It certainly does not
What ruins you is the void in your heart
That you fill with rum every night
That empty space on the bed
Where you crave the presence of them at times
It does not always have to be alcohol and powder filled packs
Or magic mushrooms or even hash
It is that lingering space in your entity
That has been broken and dejected by the world
It is that question mark left on your heart
And the thud of your heartbeat in the silence of the dark.

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About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m Sheher Bano Zafar and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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