The House That Pain Built

By Mariyam Qurayshi

Every time I rise, I fall into this place

A hollow, endless,ink drenched space.

I built it brick by aching brick,

With whispered neglect and thoughts too thick.

It’s pillars stand on fractured ground,

Lost esteem.

Love never found.

I longed for warmth, 

In disguise It came through taunts and shattered ties.

You see, rage and scorn are not my truth,

They’re echoes of a distant youth.

Still, anxiety drapes me in its lace,

A child again, lost in this place.

This silent void, my solemn grave.

A punishment carved in endless time.

Yet hope is relentless, cruel and also kind,

It persists within my hopeless mind.

Hope that love will feel like mine,

That I’ll no longer toe the line.

That anxious hands will loosen its grip,

And I’ll no longer wait to flip.

The mountains call, the oceans weep,

The stars still shine even though I don’t sleep.

But who am I to dream of flight,

When darkness feels like home tonight?

Still deep within a whisper begs,

Not for darkness but for me.

One day, I’ll wield the blade of light,

And carve my way out of this night.

But not today, NO, not just yet.

Let me drown in the cold regret.

For home is where I learned to break,

And peace is just the storm I make.

By Mariyam Qurayshi