This is a poem that works two ways according to the reader's interpretation.
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Poem
**Daddy's Princess**
You are here but not near
An illusion, that with a touch shall disappear
Connected by a thread, frail and long
That shall remain, when you are gone
A smile changes everything
Eliminating any emerging dots of discontent
But the eyes cannot lie
They speak loudly and tend to be vent
''Daddy's Princess''
What does this mean?
You are royalty
And you're Mom the Queen?
Wrapped in shrouds of endearment,
Spoiled meticulously with luxury,
Smile tearing at the world,
And becoming target of vicious storms of envy?
And why should not there be envy?
When the princess has been brought up this gingerly?
Not a single, pristine crystal allowed to fall from her eyes
Disdain or despair she never knew to everyone's surprise
Yet one must assess
The Practicality of Dreams
Things do not live on forever
As each ruefully sails through life's hesitant streams
You are here, but not near
An illusion that with the touch shall disappear
Connected by a thread, frail and long,
That still will be there when you are gone
Death is inevitable and should
Be sung as a remembrance song
''There shall be no princess, when you are gone......''
**By Hareem Fatima**
**The Flower of Light**
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#15
reailty
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"You think you're going to walk down an aisle for that old man?I'm done being the nice guy, Mishti. I'm ready to force this. I'll film every second of it-every filthy look on your face, every pathetic sound you make. I'll send that video to that old dick and let him watch exactly how his 'innocent' little bride moans while she's being ruined by a monster. I'll tell him explicitly, in detail, how I was the one who broke your hymen." I shivered violently, my knees feeling like they were made of water. The sheer brutality in his voice, mixed with the painful, heat-inducing pressure of his hands on my chest, made my head spin. "Sultan, please..." I whispered, my voice a broken, wet thread. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine, his blood-red eyes burning into my soul. He gave my breasts one last, punishing squeeze before sliding his hands up to cup my face with a terrifying intensity. "Then give me something better, Mishti," he growled, his breath hot and smelling of dark desire. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just rip the rest of these clothes off, throw you on that bed, and finish this right now? Why should I show you even a second of mercy?" I looked at his lips, then back at his crazed eyes. My body was betraying me; between the fear and the way he was handling me, a slick, treacherous heat was pooling between my thighs. My heart was thundering, not just from terror, but from a dark, shameful need to be claimed by the very man who was threatening to destroy me.
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