healing, pain, sexual harrasmemt

Lost and found.

Some days

When the nights are too dark

And the owls howl around

The mangrove spread its branches

And the mud goes deep and down.

That man meddling inside my mind

Walks on me in these hours

I desire to bustle and breathe

But I feel dull and devoured.

I run into the circles

Searching for the lost parts of mine

And find myself trapped

With a broken spine.

On those some days

I don’t know what to do.

So,

I wrap my hands around my knees

Sit beneath the shower.

Gasp the sunshine from the window

That blooms my budding flower.

I keep my wounds in bare hands

Allows them to heal.

The past will terrify sometimes, I tell

Look, the present is sound and serene.

The nights will turn dark

The owls will howl around.

But after some days

White lilies will spread itself

The mud won’t go deep and down.

Winter sun won’t lose its way

But it will nurture the ground.

These some days

It’s a matter of time.

Someday soon, I know

I will feel my skin

limbs, and

bones

Again, like mine.

Healing is a tiring phase.

-Noor

                             

 

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sexual harrasmemt

How I turned into an art?



Like a doll, you
assured me, the harm.

Ripped the fibers
of my frock, at first.

Turned my head then , and
splitted those arms.

To find honey between those legs,
You finally set them apart.

Enough force, some
Were still unable to pare.

With those still intact parts , I mended
the scattered pieces of my heart.

Before you, I was a little doll.
It was your act of carnality.

That Turned me
into an art.

That turned me
Into an art..
                                           – Noor



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