Before it

A malediction of what’s not meant. 

The moon chased after the sun before he could make her stay,
But it turned into a lonely night before day.

The rainbow cheered the cloud up before he teared,
But it turned  into a furious thunderstorm before it cleared.

For if the solemn utterance and solicitous deed is intended for love to be known and felt by the need, 
Then, there won’t be beauty before it. 


Forever be silenced 

I’ve learn one of a few things on entreaty

It’s the most deafening wound yet the courageous front against rage.

It may not be an extricate shot, before guilt and regret.

But remaining silent, never meant to be forever be silenced. 


Her Poems

Timelessly read poet attempting to understand the state of her heart,

Unsaid emotions pierced together into words to fit it all in her disoriented sight of sanity,

A poetry that brought in words that hold the aptitude of what never mattered.


Write will you 

I don’t write as often, it’s an internal bloody war of being myself and knowing it’ll be stab against me now. 

But I’ll still write, even if prevailing the truth carved in me would seem pathetic.

For I’ll still write to You, even if only a word is left in me.


Timely reminder

“Or do you think that you will enter Paradise while such [trial] has not yet come to you as came to those who passed on before you? They were touched by poverty and hardship and were shaken until [even their] messenger and those who believed with him said,”When is the help of Allah?” Unquestionably, the help of Allah is near.”

(Al-Baqarah 2:214)