there is a weapon  that i keep inside my pocket poked into the strands of my hair bun folded under my sleeves as i roll them up it fights with me in every battle it makes me win  it will, finally make me win but the defeats towards the victory makes me forget about the armour in...

It’s insane the juggle of jargons the manic grammar & punctuation because modern day poetry is all about aesthetics and grunge-ness the crazy choices of words from the dictionary that angsty 14-year-old teenagers would use to “express themselves” but here i am,  still writing, it’s...

I wake  up to the shift of the bedsheet  as my mom scrolls through messages  on her tablet I open my eyes again, her blanket is neatly folded and the sun screams his rays at me through the peeking curtain standing straight on top of my roof oops, it is now 12. I was about...