Vengeance

Should’ve let you leave when you asked

Should’ve let you breathe when you were masked

Should’ve done a million things over differently

Should’ve waited for the punishment and the penalty

Should’ve made you wait instead of scuttling towards the door

Should’ve construed myself as a bore

Should’ve melted into the dark when you saw me at the bar

Should’ve not agree for a ride in your car

Should’ve left when I had the chance

Should’ve responded to your insistences with a menace

Because don’t you see where I am?

A shrouded black cloud hovering above ready to maim

Because don’t you see I’m back to where I started

A mess; pale faced and broken hearted

Could’ve hurt you when you screamed her name

Could’ve killed you just for ending this game

Could’ve hurled you on the floor tainting it with blood

Could’ve broken your face for making my eyes flood

Could’ve done a million things differently

Could’ve ended things with a finality

They say hurt people hurt people

But for that you have to be classified as one of the people

You smeared, whacked, ruined, broke and fucked me over

I’m just tryna do the same thing but on paper

Can’t say I’ll succeed until I see you bleed

Renew your IVs cause I just gave myself a lead

© Rushna Imdad . All rights reserved. Published on June 14, 2017.

Image not owned by me. Credits to LDR and her team.

The ones

Maybe we’re supposed to be these people who are constantly broken in an incessant manner. Maybe we’re doomed to be the incomplete ones; the loners and the wanderers. Maybe we’re expected to be exhaustively deploring the shambles of depravity and to keep digging for a little sunshine to escape into the little islands of darkness we’re stranded on. Maybe these islands of solace are an internalising source to the happiness within and maybe the lanterns connecting these islands to one and another will guide me to you. Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll find your light on the other side.

© Rushna Imdad. All rights reserved. Published on April 9, 2017.

 

 

3 a.m

It’s 1.43 am and I’m sinking.

It’s 1.49 am and I’m barely there.

It’s 1.52 and I’m a goner.

It’s been all said and done. I am unworthy and undeserving; incapable of being loved. People around me relentlessly display that fact for my knowledge. I don’t deserve it because I’m not enough. I’m never enough and I won’t ever be. It’s a vicious cycle and it threatens to pull me in on under.

Under the waves, I go. Rolling and submerging into a cascading layer of transcendence, that’s what they deem it to be but in reality, it’s a roaring unwavering doom circling around me. It’s gripping my shrouds and doesn’t let go. Sinking in euphoria of finally being relieved of pain, I go rolling.

Unloved and undulating. I go. I leave.

They say it’s a rough ride, spiraling down the tunnel of implicated disorder. I want to leave but I don’t want to go.

It’s 2.10 and I’m almost there.

Vivid imagery. I’d do anything for the pain to go away.

Sniff. Sniff. Oops, it split.

I’m almost there. Bump one more and I swear, I’ll be better.

They say I’m undeserving of the love yet I have so much to give that it spills out of me and cascades on the crimson carpet. It looks like my insides. Raw, pragmatic but pure. Please, I plead, it’s been years. I have given and given and given. I’ve loved, loved and lost even more.

There’s no more of it. I’m almost empty. Almost done.

It’s 2.26 and I can’t wait to get there.

‘No, you’re mistaken. You long for the pain because you give you see. That’s what you do and that’s what gets you back. Infinite amounts of despair and pain. You’re nothing.’

It’s 2.49 and I’m reaching.

Time to be alive and undead. I’m numb and I’ve nothing to lose.

3 am

Time of the poets and the dreamers and the extraordinaire.

Call on me. Call on me.

I’m waiting. Waiting to be free.

Call on me.

Save me.

Save me from myself now.