think

Therapy

Poetry

Another night scratching my head as I reach for a pencil. Another night spent torturing words in the mind’s muddied trenches, proving that yes you

My heart is a pancake, Shared by the poor and homeless And there is a poetic spot, That belongs to the orphans Who are covered

I hate you so much that I don’t hate you, Sometimes I try to define your beauty. I watch as the wind hits your nose,

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The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of

I’m skilled at bottling up my feelings but I’ll burst if you shake me. one pull at a loose thread and I come apart at

Another child has been killed by yet another house-help – this time they are both males. The boy, a child of 3, was placed inside

At exactly twelve noon, she was found dead. Sitting all by herself, a fat old cat resting at the foot of her chair; oblivious of