The devil in my life - By Isha

Written By: Isha

Category: Free verse

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Isha presents "The devil in my life," a free verse poem that delves into themes of betrayal and emotional conflict. Through vivid imagery and raw emotion, Isha captures the profound sense of disillusionment and introspection. This competition, known for showcasing diverse voices in the realm of poetry and creative writing, provides a platform for unique explorations of the human experience.

About the Work

Isha's "The devil in my life" is a compelling exploration of betrayal and emotional turmoil. The poem uses stark imagery to evoke a sense of disillusionment, drawing readers into the speaker's world of broken promises and shattered trust. The free verse style enhances the raw, unfiltered emotional depth, creating a powerful narrative of introspection. The work challenges readers to reflect on the complexities of relationships and the pain of misplaced trust.

The devil in my life

Original Submission by Isha

Submission for Hashtag Kalakar

The devil in my life

Written by: Isha

I wish I could talk to you, tell you how I don't know betrayal worse than the kind you made me feel. Tell you how I thought I was your whole heart when I was nothing more than a mere chess piece in your sick game. Tell you how happy I was knowing you had my back, only to know I'd have to use that very same back to carry all the weight of your broken promises and the wounds from your words that felt like knives through my spine.

Tell you how much my heart still remembers the way you held my hand tight as we crossed roads and hoped you would hold it the same when I had my heart first broken by a boy. It was only much later that I realised, you broke it first. I want to tell you, tell you how I saw you as the king of my world and now you've turned into Narcissus.

I want to tell you, that I am sorry. I am sorry I ever saw myself as the biggest thing in your world. I mistook the feeling you made me feel for what it actually was. You were only making me feel good about myself because the only way you can use someone is to make their entire worthiness be defined by you. What good am I if I am of no use to you, right? What do I have to offer other than to be your yes man? What else do I have to say other than to agree with you? My voice had no meaning unless it aligned with your words. There was no me without you, and by that I don't mean that you completed me. I mean that I was only of value because I was by your side. You had my blind faith. You made me the perfect puppet.

You built me up with the most fragile pieces. So fragile that when I crumbled, I crumbled entirely to the ground. The pieces of me were shallow too. So shallow that when I broke and fell apart, the only sound you heard was silence. I am sorry I ever thought that you were a good person. I should have seen through you, through the way you treat the woman who birthed your children, the way you treat the house which holds her and them in it, the way you look down on us like there's nothing that could be lower than us. You treat your children like trophies. No, not the kind you put beside your name on your desk so it's the first thing someone sees when they walk in before they see you. I mean the kind of trophies that are at the back of your shelf all dusty and grimy, and the only time you remember of them is when someone asks you how many you have.

Among all these things that I want to tell you, I also want to ask you, how does it feel to look at your wife and be so purposefully blind to the wreck you've caused? Does it feel like looking at a bathtub filled to the brim with blood and simply walking out because the blood isn't yours?

I want to ask, does it feel good that you chose to skip through the chapters of your book where you were the villain and stayed stuck on the ones you were glorified? How come you don't want to read the other parts? Why won't you read it? Don't you know that this isn't like any other book, and you can tear up the pages all you want but the shreds will remain scattered in your brain? Don't you know that every shred you've ripped, will become etched to your soul like a sin? Don't you know that you can run, and you have so many different paths to do so too, but they all lead to the same thing? You think you're running away, but you're only running into what you deserve, you're just taking a longer route.

Do you know what you're running into, you saint? You're running into a brick wall. You will run as fast as you can, thinking the faster you go the further you'll get away, but when you least expect it, that wall will appear before your eyes and before you know it, your own speed would have caused the severity of your plight. Even then, you would not know of pain. The kind the woman you vowed to protect and love feels, the woman who handed her heart into yours only to know that it was never a part of you.

I would say you ripped her heart out, but that's cliche. It would be more accurate to say that as she stood in front of you, and parted her trembling lips to ask you to love her like you once did, you reached your hand towards her and you pulled her guts out, one by one, while smirking in her face, and left her hollow. And she let you, because what they don't tell you is that love stops you from stopping someone from butchering you.

I would say that you looked into her eyes, and swallowed the fire behind them. I would say that you stole her smile, and stitched onto her face a new one that fits your story better. I would say that you turned her hands ice cold by depriving her of the warmth that she craved from yours.

I want to ask you, how's your day? Does the sun that touches your skin scorch you? Does the rain pierce through your skin and freeze your veins? Does the breeze enter your nostrils and tighten your throat, suffocating you? Does the ground crack loudly into two with each step you take? Do the flowers lean into you, to stab you with their thorns? Does the moonlight make you want to gorge your eyes out? Does the sound of birds chirping make blood ooze out of your ears?

If Satan walked this earth, you would know how he would feel.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious event that celebrates the art of written expression. It brings together poets and writers from around the world to share their unique perspectives and creative voices. This competition serves as a platform for emerging talents to showcase their work and engage with a global audience, fostering a community of literary enthusiasts and artists.

Thank you, Isha, for your thought-provoking contribution, "The devil in my life," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your poem's exploration of deep emotional themes resonates powerfully, inviting reflection and empathy. We appreciate your participation and look forward to seeing more of your evocative work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.