An urge
Brings to my mind options,
Options to a place
A place where my life and peace may affirm on a notion.

An urge
Tells me things,
Things that after which I may be free.
This urge tells me
That I may trade my breath for bread
That there’s beauty in death,
That I’d better release myself and be set free.

I fight to stay rigid on love
As I eye my selfishness
And guilt painfully unpleasing
To take this path,
To leave them mourn in the cold
In darkness and distortion,
In tears
And the sorrowful episodes of my mother.

© Mustafa Khan A.


  1. Ryta says:

    NYC wads

    Liked by 1 person

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