Monday, November 7, 2016


Bark, century-thick
Leaning away from- Him.
And the ‘who’ is irrelevant
There is none.
There is just a wall
A guilt-laden wall

Greyed lavender
Giving its all
To one-sided intent
Slamming short,
The ruler here is untouchable
As there is nothing to win.
Nothing to fight

Owned. In this madness
Chosen, the abuse has merit
To preside over the stale accusations
Making them relevant. Course ground
To have caked on what was never
My belief to begin with.
“These rules…” Take them
Eat them…
Make them You.

And for what?
To cater to the diagnosis
Of a blurred victim, who
Lost sight of a world that was yanked
At birth? At birth? At birth…
Do you hear that? Who could
Call themselves ‘Mother’
While having a hand
In that?

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