آرٹ پرستار

Authors note: Here it is. The third of the ten diary poems. A nice medium between freeverse and rhyme. I think you'll find this one to be quite intriguing. :)


Sugar and چائے such a sweet combination,
The tip of the tongue feels
A burning sensation.
The lady in purple, the lady in red,
Are sipping on جیسمین, یاسمین چائے right before bed.

One of them speaks,
The other one listens.
The red dress it sparkles,
The purple one glistens.

One has a princess with a bouquet of flowers,
One has the princess that fusses for hours.
And talks about warfare and throws things and yells.

The one in black, the lady in red's daughter....

It was going well after a few weeks. So I thought. I managed to calm down, and after a few days I ate what they gave me. Sure, I hated it here, I hated everyone I saw, included whoever showed up in the mirror- either being myself یا my mother. ..But, I was calm. The storm was over for the time being, and I was in the silent stage of the aftermath.

..Then I had a relapse.

I can't remember what I did exactly. I just remember screaming, and breaking the reflective surface that was infront of me- being a window. My hand was in pain from the glass, and I remember the vivid colors of red drenching...