Let me live.

My skin became my diary

I thought I'd take a break

They say poetry makes me weak

Its uncanny how this came about

Words even from zipped mouths may leak

When you choose your mate

He becomes the diary of your soul

Wrongs not on her part

That her efforts were not his goal

The marks on her skin are what show

That you snatched away her paper and pen

Her skin reveals the grapple of each second

She was walking nonchalant into the lion's den

The brains she got and the glasses she wore

The piles of books lying in her room

Up all night she learned to compete in the race

Not for you to find her a groom

You laugh at me because my utter reality

And the spiraling thoughts, banters and fights

Live in my words and breathe in my pen

Its better spilling it out rather than battling sleepless nights

I want to rise as high as the moon

So that when I look down at your life

I see your devilish tongue eating you alive

Scarred on me are those traces, it left as a knife

Sana Jaffri