This is not a poem

Standard

This is not a poem

Maybe an eulogy ? Or an ode

To my dead self or resurrection

I will see what is the case

After this rhyme is complete

I need to forgive myself

Before God or the Devil

Self-forgiveness is important

Forgive the ghosts of the past

To my mother

I’m sorry your marriage did not worked out

But a strong woman married to a weak man

That “high school love” is doomed from the start

Your discipline techniques really didn’t do much

They turned your child into a manipulative cunt, well that is a plus

To my father

You’re the only man in my life that I love

But even in my love there is no forgiveness

You shouldn’t have put a hand on her

Not one but multiple times

Shouldn’t have hit your wife in front of your 9 year old child

Please, be a man and stop this mental abuse on others

To the boy who I had a crush on in 5th grade

I never talked to you

But you gave me that vibe

Of badass senior biker boys

I liked that in you

To be honest, the charm of thrill still drives me insane

They call me adrenaline junkie, for a reason

To the girl who made fun of me in 8th grade

I never bothered you

We barely spoke

But you were pretty and smart

While, I hid under books and art

It wasn’t fair that you made fun of my stutter

Just so you could prove how “cool and funny” you were

To the English teacher back in 9th grade

I still remember how you slapped me on the face

When you didn’t like my essay

Maybe, you were frustrated how I didn’t participate

I swore to be a writer that day

Who would paint murals with her words

I’m glad to say, I really didn’t turn out that bad after all

To the boy back in 10th grade

It wasn’t nice to make a fool of me

I was young and naive

Lying to your first love isn’t that sweet

To the boy I claimed to love in highschool

Two years is a long time

We were both at fault

I loved every moment with you

Stolen kisses, midnight sneaks and even when you tried hitting me

I’m sorry that I had to leave

But I was learning how to love myself because they never really taught me how to

I hate chocolates, now

Just so you know

The night when you couldn’t protect me from those men

Took out all the sweet from my soul

To my sisters and my brother

God, I love you guys

I may not talk as much

Or be the type of elder sibling you want me to be

But trust me I try

And if someone even lays a finger on you

I promise it will be their last time

To my bestfriend

I’m sorry that I am so shitty at keeping contact

You look nice with your new friends

And I love how patient you are with my depressive self

I wish you the best in life

Trust me I do

It just gets on my nerves

When I look for friends and have none

But you

I need to go out more

You’re right, I will

Not today, however

Maybe, when I’m not so down, someday

To the musician I was in love with

You really did a number on me

Who knew you could fuck me up so bad

Not even lay a hand on me and still leave a bloody trail

I’ll meet you in this lifetime, I promise you this, if I don’t die

And would dance to you singing “Hey Jude”

Because your voice still haunts me at times

To the writer who claimed to love me

Well, for you there is a lack of empathy

And in general all sorts of sympathy

All those love notes

Were word spun lies

Fuck you for lying

You should have just been honest

To my soul sisters

I love you

Our souls resonate to the same frequency

I take this bond stronger than blood

To my best man

If anyone tries to harm you in life

I swear to God

I will rip their bodies apart and set them on fire

The way I love you, cant be put into words

I’m sorry that my love is violent and not tender

You helped me in ways you don’t know

And for that I owe you my blood

My soul

To the boy I’m with

Please, be kind

I really can’t take more hurt or sorrow

I confuse love with affection

But I’ll learn, I swear

And if this does not work out

Remember that you really made me smile

To the ghost of my past lovers

To the people who aren’t in this poem

Don’t think I have forgotten

I haven’t

I won’t

I forgive you for sculpting a fucked up character in me

But won’t forget the events

That made me who I am

And how I will turn out to be

So this is a rhyme

To 20 years of life

May I not slit my throat

Or chug pills with alcohol

And end up writing about a 20 more

Hoping that it turns out brighter and better

Than this series of fucked up events

About people who broke me intentionally and unintentionally

And who loved me conditionally and unconditionally

Amen!

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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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