It’s morning, a naked one
And it’s last night that weighs
Heavy upon my heart
Wounding me
Something bleeds
Under the skin
A torture
A torment
The pain of unspoken
The suffering of silence
The voiceless shadow
Mourns
Inside the soul
A huge gap widens
Rolling and rolling, expanding
Turning into void
I stare at myself
My heart grieves over its coldness
My mind over its ignorance
My soul over its vulnerability
I stare
Petrified
Tormented
What do you call it?
Pity or sighs?
I stare
I shout with no voice in my throat
Will you hear then?
The clutter of voicelessness
The dance of eternity
Over death of meaningless
And rebirth of never-ending yearning
The sharpness of blades
Running of blood
And
Will you witness
A Nothingness
In my eyes????
© Saba Zain 2019
Painting: Greg Hargreaves
Saba Zain is a short story writer & major interests and forte within writing confessional poetry. She is the founder of the writing forum “writership” that aims to enhance the culture of writing amongst the youngster through events and meetups to give diversity to that culture by promoting regional languages.
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