Exiled is a journey into the shadows of the mind, where desire and despair collide in raw verses. These poems pulse with darkness, drawing inspiration from the depths of depression, exploring the seductive allure of pain, and the irresistible pull o...
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Graveyard
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I am a graveyard, where my father's anger and my grandfather's rage are buried side by side, silent, but still simmering beneath the soil.
Here lies the tomb of my mother's tears— shed over my father's cheating, her unfinished education, the way her husband's family looked at her, always sideways. Her sorrow runs deep, festering with maggots since 1997, tucked beneath layers of regret and dust.
Next to her, my grandmothers' frustrations, our relatives' greed, their selfishness, and the life issues of my siblings and friends who never had the time or the right questions to ask.
I am a graveyard, forever welcoming the burdens of others— fertile soil where their pains decompose. From the wreckage, new flowers, even a fruit tree, find a way to blossom.
But where will I bury my own dead, when my loved ones have already claimed every plot? There's no room left for my grief, no space for the bones of what I've lost.
So I'll linger here, an unwanted ghost, forever haunting my own graveyard.
And you, dear husband, are my faithful pilgrim, bringing light to my shadowed corners, offering the warmth of familiar comforts. You sit in silence, stroking the echoes of our time— lost among these unnamed headstones— as if to calm the restless wind, the only place I can call my own.
