Posted in Poetry

The Paper

They called it relief

I think it’s called hard work

One sheet with the right words

After the scene passes

the one where you stop for a second

and the tear-drop freezes in your eye

Lingers for a second

Lingers for a moment

Before falling to the letters

After that

When your breathing resumes

Your smile doesn’t look so crazy anymore

It begins to falter

and you wonder

Now what?

-a.K.a-

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Author:

Hi, my name's Aisha and I am 24 years of age. I'm passionate about writing poetry. Sometimes, I don't know how to convey my thoughts in normal conversation but I can spin off a poem about what I am feeling in 5 minutes. Or less. Writing is my thing. Like it is a lot of people's 'thing' and sometimes the only 'thing' that is a sufficient outlet to stop us all from going crazy. There's a lot of pain and anxiety in my poems, but often relief, which I find hard to convey but manage to slip it in at the end with a reference from the Quran or a hadith. If you feel you recognise this same emotional attachment to words, then feel free to read my blog and do not hesitate to contact me, comment and subscribe! Peace, Aisha -a.K.a-

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