Illustration: Wardha Moriam

With nothing left to give,
She withered away.
From black, then to white
And she faded to gray.

Putting down blocks, 
She's boxed herself in.
Prison to self,
With bars made of sins.

Nowhere to go,
She's losing her front.
A shell of a woman. 
A prey on the hunt.

Illusion of choice.
She's trying again.
To rewrite a fate,
That's long been ordained. 

Moving them round,
On a board made of wick.
Trying to bed them
With poor limericks.

If this was a test,
She's not doing okay. 
Her mind in cahoots 
With a heart that's astray.

The unseen and unheard
Are what scare her the most.
Not once is she sheltered
With the cold-hearted host. 

Taken away to a warm wooden shed, 
Expected that, that is the life she would live. 
She sets herself down in a coffin to go 
And buries herself as she learns to forgive.

Syeda Erum Noor is dangerously oblivious and has no sense of time. Send help at erum.noor1998@gmail.com