lights, white lights blinding my eyes
so bright I could see a paradise,
out of body experience
but I'm just a patient, paralysed
cut open like a disease on a table,
needles to my arms; anesthetised
ghosts in my veins, I can barely move
strapped down to a bed, secured by a noose
blades of scissors playing over my strings
like the cords of a violin, I'm abused;
nerve after nerve, etherised
wire after wire- like I'm a bomb to diffuse;
in a sleepless slumber, blinded and mute
just a resounding reverb of my ugly dirge;
a living carcass, adorned with wounds
with one foot in the grave and heart on the verge,
deafened by silence and pierced to numbness
with either this disease or my soul to purge
what's a silver lining in a black and white world
tore my sutures open and found a whole drugstore;
if the body's a temple, mine's a brothel
pills after pills, I'm an overdosed whore;
ripped open like a disease on a table
with the Syringe and the Scythe forever at war
- Madeeha Anwar
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Bleeding Pen ~ disorders and poetry
Poetry~ disorders and poetry ~ a collection of lyric poems, mostly on romance, melancholy, angels and demons including short excerpts too now © Madeeha Anwar
