Ikram Hossain Akif
Contains themes of violence.
Reader discretion is advised.
Leaves fall silently;
bright rays gleam as they wither and die,
crushed mercilessly by joyous children
and adults alike
“A crunchy one!” they exclaim.
The paintbrush snaps;
broken wood and plastic clatter to the floor,
in a mess of paint and dreams
“Another F!” she yelled.
The door slams shut;
skin crawls to even breathe the same air,
the panic deafeningly loud, unstoppable
“One day” I whisper.
Dishes clatter to the floor;
a million perfect pieces of china,
crying out at once, but not enough to drown out
“Throw that phone away!” she snapped.
Warmth pours over me;
blanket as safe as a dream forgotten,
overborne by care, concern, and tenderness
true and undying
“For today,” I muttered.
The world zips by;
it ran as I struggled to breathe,
shackles on my feet, drowning, fighting
“How much more?” I begged.
Thunder strikes loud and bright;
skin scorching as blood ebbed and flowed
loudly, pain coursing in my veins
“No more,” He replied
The storm rages on;
shackles melted away as I let go
of the wheel, fueled by slow, torturous rage
He took over
“My turn” He sneered.
Like music to my ears,
the screams echoed the room,
anger, then disbelief, then all her fears,
she saw her doom.
Fists hit flesh and bone;
they scar, they break, they turn to mush,
the disbelief in her eyes, the sheer surprise,
in the blood-ridden walls I find solace
“Let that sink in” We sigh,