Instincts speak a language of their own

You try to know all that doesn’t want to be known

Conclusions based on what they say and do, and what they don’t

Backing off, bulls jerk backward, away from the red, the phonies

Back to square one, their instincts create hierarchies with their horns

‌Mistaken realizations; the finer ideas of wrong

Were not merely in doing wrong, but in not feeling wrong

Uncertainties of the right, were not in doing right

But feeling right, when in clear wrong

Please. Let the wolf win. Let it mingle in its pride

If I define triumph to the pack, the costs to leave behind

I would already have missed the evening meal, twice

A cycle giving birth to new ideologies overnight

A garbage heap looks the same no matter where it is

A language is misinterpreted equally where it is understood, and where it’s learnt

Pencils bend where graphite lacks, instead of the other way around

The more down-to-earth, the colder the chills as dawn rips the sky in two


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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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