2025

The long nights, the darkness deep, The life of a small child, Devoured by a sick beast, Who saw it right, To do all that

She had nothing to cling on, So she relented and watched , As the blade splintered her entire being. She beamed; Beamed because for her, 

These wounds will heal. These tears will dry. But the scars will tell; The story of your INHUMANITY. Of once dangling swings now stand still

My shoes were too torn to wear, I walked in them. So cold my feet felt, in the chilly air. Long nights full of hunger,

On this hill I stand, recalling my youth, My gaze sweeps over an image of virtue, An image of what once was—my village, my home.

I had grown weary, Of trying to be worthy, I had to be my own friend, I had to betray myself less; In the name

Hushed tones, subtle and dreadful, His gaze never leaves my frame, No bruises in sight, skin smooth as glass, Yet deep inside, wounds flourish and

Like a baby torn from its mother’s succulent breast, Like a joey ripped from the warmth of its pouch, I am knifed from the pleasure

He left a void, one never to be filled, His memories leave my heart heavy, I cannot sleep, without dreaming, Of his moments last. I

Raging flames, Wails and cries of anguish, The smell of burnt skin, Roaring of flames, Chaos, panic, and fear.  All these played vividly in her