Guilty conscience

At your doorstep there’s a mat
I wipe my muddy shoes with
If there was ever gum that stuck
I would smile at the nylon and you would call me delusional

It’s like zebras hugging each other
With the intention of blending in
To their stripes
Only to find
That to each its own

However obvious it may sound
Hazel is neither gold, and wise, nor green and new
It’s nature feeling unapologetic for, experimenting with power and its genes.

How iconic is a knife to the hands that slay
Existing in between excuses for the slain
Dreams given and killed by the same hands
Enslaved in this pursuit for freedom, ‘Dulce et Decorum est’

But like a lie, within a lie, within another lie
Trust built on brick and not foundation, was sold
Bargained for a clean soul, caged in for another smudge to rub
That only grew bigger with each flip of a page, a guilty conscience needing no accuser.


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Hi. Now that you're here...let's just get this out of the way. I hadn't introduced myself in the past because when I first started this blog, I wanted it to be purely about my writing. This is not, and was never supposed to be, an anonymous blog. However, after almost a year of inactivity, I realize an 'about' section is...necessary? My name's Sadia. I live in Islamabad, Pakistan. Between uni/work/life in general, I try to take time to write. I own all content on this blog. Although, I do NOT own the images posted here, nor do I take credit for them whatsoever. I wanted to thank my visitors, for still being loyal and genuine after this long. In case you want to know more about me for whatever inexplicable reason, ask ahead and I'll get back to you! This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand. Love, Sadia.

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