Pockets full of nothing

An icy dagger through a bird’s beak
Betrayal working its magic
Swallowing the sun

Who would’ve known
That awareness would hide behind the unseen
The rest, punctured, cuddled up in a heap

I know it means a lot to you
Your input in every move there is to freeze
Cracked ribs, broken knees

Jambled up within tragedy
I find the paper plane return to its station
Fingers painted with stains, ablaze

I don’t get how, the swinging chair lost its friction
Over slippery floors, worked up boards
And you thought you outsmarted the rest on chess, them being color blind, you unable to perceive sight

By betting it all, becoming a millionaire
Hands nothing but strangers, to pockets full of nothing
   A peacemaker starting a riot

Dust in my eyes
Louder than words, an epiphany
Stoning my demons to death

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Published by

S K

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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