Poem 1- The riot in me.

The Riot in Me

Dark is the mind,

an ever-growing abyss.

But darker is the soul,

that sunders me from bliss.

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The world, judgemental,

The pressure vast.

Running in the human race,

always coming last.

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I choke back tears,

I hold back pain.

I want to feel good,

be alive again.

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The voices scream,

The voices shout.

They trap me and hold me down,

I know there is no way out.

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Sharp is the knife,

and soft is the skin,

Let me escape

this prison I’ve been living in.

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This prison of lies

this prison of hate

this prison of judgement

this prison of fate.

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Sharp is the knife,

the blade will release me.

No longer trapped in this prison;

but escape is not easy.

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Ayman Vorajee

Poem 1 from the wHATEver collection